


let the light illuminate these hopeless places

by malvie



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: Angst, Auradon!Evie, Darker Than Disney, F/F, Isle!Mal, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, adopted!evie, evie returns to the isle, malvie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-01-10 03:47:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12290553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malvie/pseuds/malvie
Summary: Evie was never supposed to be living in Auradon. She was the daughter of a villain, just like all the other kids on the Isle, but by a stroke of luck, she made it out. And, now, she wants all the kids of the Isle to be given the same chance.or, au in which Evie grew up in Auradon





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> wow so um this is an idea that has been on my mind for a WHILE but i always thought the backstory would be too complex to put into words. but i think i was able to do it pretty well?? maybe? hopefully? 
> 
> but just to give a tiny bit of information, Evie was adopted by Aurora so that’s why it starts out with her in the scene. 
> 
> and since this is such a drastic change from canon, there’s gonna need to be a lot of background to make this all cohesive and sensible without being rushed.
> 
> this is a malvie-centric fic but because of this buildup, you won’t see Mal until chapter three, but stick around, she will be coming. 
> 
> if you are left with any confusion or questions after this chapter, feel free to leave them in a comment. i’d love to know what does and doesn’t make sense so that i can go back and make it better! 
> 
> and i swear my chapter notes aren’t usually this long. 
> 
> i think that is all, and i hope anyone who gives this a chance enjoys it!

_“Tell the story about me!” Evie exclaimed as she sat up in bed, her eyes lighting up as Aurora moved to turn off the lamp on her nightstand._

_“You always tell that story, mommy.” Audrey immediately protested, crossing her arms over her chest and pouting out her bottom lip. “Why can’t we hear the one about me?”_

_“Because yours is boring and mine is better,” Evie shot back, sticking her tongue out at Audrey for an added sting._

_The older girl’s face twisted in anger before she stuck out her own back at Evie, only for Aurora to send pointed looks at both the bickering girls._

_“I told yours last night, honey,” Aurora explained to Audrey, taking a seat on her daughter’s bed. “It’s Evie’s turn.”_

_Audrey pouted louder at the reasoning, while Evie squealed and clapped her hands, pulling the blanket over her shoulders and snuggling against her pillow in preparation for the story._

_“Once upon a time,” Aurora’s voice was smooth and always melodic; it made her the best storyteller— far better than Phillip. “On an island far, far away, a little girl was born. The island she was born on was a terrible island— full of villains and mean kids and everything awful in the world. And one day, the little girl lost her mother, and that made the island even more terrible for her.”_

_Evie couldn’t hold back the giggle that bubbled up in her throat. She already knew where the story was going, considering she had been hearing the tale since she could first understand it, but every time felt just like the first, filling her with amazement and wonder that left her hanging onto each word._

_“But there was a princess on a good island, and she heard about the little girl. She didn’t want the little girl to live on the bad island anymore. So, she went to the king and asked him if she could help her.”_

_Evie squeezed her eyes shut, attempting to envision the scene. She could never remember being on a bad island, and Aurora said it was because she was too young to remember, but sometimes if she focused hard enough, she found it easy to pretend that she did remember._

_“At first, King Beast said that she wasn’t allowed to because she already had a baby and it was too dangerous to bring a little girl off of an island full of bad people. But the princess didn’t believe that, and she kept trying— kept asking for King Beast to give the little girl a chance._

_“Finally, one day he listened and sent a big car over the magic bridge to the island. They found the little girl and brought her back to the princess so that she could raise the little girl as her new daughter.” Aurora stood from Audrey’s bed and made her way over to Evie’s, placing a hand on top of the girl’s blue hair and running her fingers through the curls._

_“The little girl loved her new home and her new family, and the princess loved having two daughters that became part of her happily ever after.”_

_Evie sighed contently, her eyes falling shut momentarily as Aurora leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. “Goodnight, Evie.”_

_“Goodnight, Aurora.”_

_She stood once again— this time clicking off the bedside lamp before she returned to Audrey’s bed, leaning down to place an identical kiss on the older girl’s head._

_“Goodnight, mommy.”_

_“Goodnight, baby.”_

The memory lingered at the front of Evie’s mind as she stared out past the ocean at a tiny speck of an island— the bad island, the Isle of the Lost. Her head fell against the tree she was leaned against as she watched, following a flock of vultures that seemed permanently occupied in flying circles around the bit of land.

It was an activity she found herself commonly involved in, and the edge of Auradon that faced out towards the ocean became a favorite among her choices of areas to complete homework. She told herself it was because the peaceful nature that stemmed from the sound of rolling waves and rustling leaves offered a suitable environment for studying, but she knew that the only reason she ever came to the cliff was to stare out at the place that could have— and possibly should have— been her home.

She came to the cliff often— when she needed a distraction or when she felt especially like the outcast that Auradon sometimes made her out to be— and she would allow herself to grow lost in her imagination, where an alternate version of her life played inside her mind like a film of made up memories.

She never understood why her connection to the Isle was still there, and why the thought of living there still intrigued her, but she kept the desires to herself, afraid that speaking on it would only confuse the people that probably thought of living on the Isle as a situation that only existed in nightmares.

The distant sound of shifting sand told Evie she was no longer alone. She didn’t need to turn around to know who was standing behind her.

“I thought you’d be here.” Doug spoke, making his presence known as he walked to stand beside her. “What are you doing?” Evie could see him attempting to follow her gaze to where it remained glued to the island, so she tore her eyes away, looking up towards the boy and offering a small smile.

“Just studying.” The answer seemed reasonable enough, but when Doug’s eyebrows fell low on his forehead, she wondered if she had said something wrong.

“You don’t have any books out, Evie.” He pointed out, his words slow and disbelieving. She immediately looked towards her empty lap, mentally cursing herself for being too consumed in her thoughts to make her usual ‘studying’ excuse seem believable.

“I haven’t started yet?” She attempted, but Doug wasn’t buying it and only shook his head, taking a seat beside her.

“What are you thinking about?”

Evie pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, the decision of answering honestly or constructing a cover story locking her in an internal debate. Finally, she sighed, ignoring the warnings that formed butterflies in her stomach as she chose the former.

“You know how I was born on the Isle?” The words spilled out of her in a stream of rushed sounds, as if her body had been waiting forever to ask that exact question. Her mind flashed briefly back to the bedtime story Aurora would always recite, and how, as a kid, it filled her with happiness that never seemed to run out. Now, it only seemed to provide her with a sense of alienation and a reminder of what could have been.

Doug nodded in response, his face still twisted in confusion as he tried to find meaning in the question.

Evie’s heart was pounding in her ears, the idea of exposing an emotion she had kept to herself for years making her feel sick to her stomach. Again, she let out a shaky breath, turning her gaze to her lap as she wracked her brain for an adequate way to form her confession. The confusion on Doug’s face quickly changed to concern, and Evie forced herself to continue before he started to vocalize his worry.

“Sometimes I feel like I still belong there.” The explanation was a stark contrast to her previous statement, coming out quiet and meek, as if just saying it would be enough to scare Doug away.

“Why would you think that?” The confusion was back on his face, but the concern remained, too, mixing together to create the exact image that Evie always imagined to see if she ever told anyone.

“I just— never mind, forget I said anything.” Evie retracted, reaching to unzip her backpack and begin working on the assignments she had originally intended to complete.

“No, Evie, I’m not judging you. I’m just trying to understand. Why would you belong on an island full of villains?” Doug rephrased, his head tilting to one side.

Something about the way he referred to the island sent a wave of anger over Evie, as if his spitting tone had offended her personally.

She only shrugged, pausing her attempt to begin doing homework. Doug waited for her to continue, and Evie cursed him for being so, damn patient. The silence between them only set her more on edge, so she forced herself to break it.

“I know it sounds crazy, but sometimes I wish I _could_ go back. I mean, I was born there after all, and I would’ve lived there for my entire life if my mother had never died, so technically, I should still be there with all the other kids that were born on the island, and I can’t help but wonder what that would be like.” She rambled, the words flowing endlessly like a dam finally giving out under the pressure of what it was holding back. Finally pulling her gaze from her lap, she re-established eye contact with the boy beside her. “And you’re looking at me like I’m crazy.” She huffed, this time returning her hands to her backpack and actually pulling out the textbooks she had brought along.

“Evie, you _don’t_ belong on the Isle.” Doug finally said; Evie could tell he was digging to find a reply suitable for the bombshell she had just dropped on him.

“Do I really belong here either?” She countered, obviously stumping Doug. And even as she asked it, she found herself pondering the answer.

Her whole life she had been the outcast of Auradon— from the moment she was able to find the striking differences between her adoptive family and herself (dark blue hair and pale skin was easy enough to distinguish from dark brown curls and tanned skin), to the constant stares she earned at school as the only kid born on the Isle.

And sure, they all knew Evie was in the running for one of the sweetest girls to attend Auradon Prep, but they still treaded lightly around her, as if one wrong move would be enough to send her spiraling back to her evil heritage.

She noticed the way Aurora treated Audrey, and how the love she showed her biological daughter was night and day compared to the affection she seldom gave Evie.

She definitely noticed the way Audrey avoided her at all costs in public, as if her reputation couldn’t stand to be tarnished by the title of ‘sister-of-the-villain-kid’.

“You’re not a villain.” Doug broke her from her contemplation, not exactly answering the question she had asked.

“But I could’ve been! What makes me so different from all those other kids?” She froze as she finished the rant, the meaning of what she had said sinking in.

“They were raised by villains! If they would have been brought here as babies, they would probably be good, too. But they didn’t have that chance like you did.” Doug explained, piquing Evie’s attention in a way that she was sure was unintentional.

The answer had already sent an idea spinning in her head before she could stop it, painting the smallest of smiles over her lips. Doug detected the change in mood immediately, easily deciphering what was on Evie’s mind.

“No, Evie,” he said sternly, as if his tone would be enough to intimidate her. The smile only grew wider on her face as the details playing through her mind became clearer and more cohesive.

“Where’s Ben right now?” She asked, coating her words in every bit of sweetness that she could conjure from inside her. Doug squinted his eyes to slits, closing his mouth as a silent indication that he wasn’t going to tell. “Doug,” she pried, this time losing the kindness in her tone and staring at the boy with all the intimidation she could muster.

It didn’t take long for him to crack, and he quickly let out a sigh of indignation, rolling his eyes and averting his gaze to the ocean in front of them.

“He’s holding a council meeting at the castle,” Doug mumbled, probably cursing himself for never being able to say no to the blue-haired girl.

Evie had expected the answer, having heard about the meeting a few days prior, but the confirmation widened her eyes in excitement, her hands already moving to shove her unused books back inside their bag.

“I’ll see you later, Doug.” She stood from the dirt, brushing off the back of her dress.

“Evie, what are you doing?” Doug called after her as she rushed down the beaten path she had come from, ignoring his question and sending her hand waving over her shoulder before she disappeared from his line of sight.

She hurried towards the campus of Auradon Prep, stopping short when she came to the stone walkway that led to the entrance of King Ben’s castle. Her heartbeat grew in intensity as she started up the path, not bothering to knock as she tugged open the heavy wooden doors.

Inside, the grand table at the center of the front room seated guests from all over Auradon, all of them seemingly talking at once as Ben tried to listen to each of their concerns and complaints.

The room fell deafeningly silent, however, as Evie stepped inside. She cleared her throat and smoothed the ripples in her dress, turning towards Ben with an innocent smile on her face.

“Evie? I’m in the middle of a council meeting, I—“ Ben started, motioning towards the people of Auradon who now wore looks of annoyance on their faces. She held up her hand to stop him.

“I’ve come here with a proposition to improve Auradon,” She projected her voice loud enough for the entire room to hear, but still felt small as she stood in front of the leaders that held a much higher status than herself. The citizens broke out in hushed chuckles and confused whispers that Evie told herself not to pay attention to, afraid they might strip her of the sudden confidence she had found.

Ben said something to a group of fairies, too quiet for Evie to hear, before he returned his attention to her, laying his hand out towards her to signal that he was ready to listen.

Evie sucked in a breath as she collected her thoughts, reciting the words inside her head with the hopes that it would stop her from stumbling over them when she spoke. And as she let the breath out, she squared her shoulders, placing her hands on her hips, and used every bit of courage left inside her to give her statement.

“I want to go back to the Isle of the Lost.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter two is here! it’s the last ‘build-up’ chapter, so you can expect to finally have some malvie interactions starting at the beginning of chapter three. 
> 
> i hope this isn’t too boring of a chapter; i tried to shorten it as much as possible but there was so much i needed to include and mention so oops 4,000 words was all i could do. but the character and plot development will all be important later on!
> 
> thank you to everyone giving this a chance, and for the support so far! enjoy!

_Out of everyone sitting at the grand table, Ben’s face remained the closest to neutral as Evie rambled on about the details of her proposition._

_Her heart still thrummed wildly, the initial adrenaline fading away and stealing her confidence with it._

_“This is insanity, Your Highness.” Lumiere butted in, no more than a second after Evie finished speaking. And as she heard the disapproval, she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe it was true._

_The room broke out with hushed chatter that King Ben swiftly lifted a hand to quiet, leaving behind an eery silence that twisted Evie’s stomach in knots._

_“Evie,” Ben addressed the blue-haired girl, paying no attention to the growing complaints of the other citizens. She swallowed a lump forming in her throat, her eyes widening in anticipation as Ben gathered his thoughts._

_“You want to go to the Isle and bring the children of villains back to Auradon?” He clarified, his face still reading nothing other than neutrality and a hint of curiosity._

_Evie fidgeted with her hands behind her back, her stomach twisting further as her own words were repeated back to her. She couldn’t blame the council for their immediate objections; the plan_ did _sound insane. She nodded despite that realization._

_“The children of villains that are only on that island because of what their parents did.” She corrected, her voice sounding small and weak compared to the kingly tone Ben’s held. “There have to be kids on that island that deserve a life other than the one they were forced into.”_

_Ben hummed lowly, tapping a few fingers on the polished wood of the table. “And you wish to go there to find those kids?”_

_Another nod._

_“I could spend time there to get to know them and come back with a list of a few names.” Evie explained, her heart continuing its ever present pounding at the idea of returning to the island she was born on._

_The council was silent, save a few— among which, Evie heard one member mumbling something along the lines of “this girl has a death wish.”_

_“Sire, I don’t mean to interrupt, but are we really going to entrust the safety of Auradon in one girl’s ability to judge character?” Lumiere questioned, sending a sinking feeling through Evie’s chest. Ben shot a sideways glance at Lumiere— one that served as a look of warning— before he cleared his throat, straightening the tie around his neck._

_“Lumiere does make a good point.”_

_She had to admit, it_ was _silly to think that Auradon’s fate should rely solely on her opinions of a few kids, but she wracked her brain anyway, refusing to accept defeat from a few kinks in the plan._

_And when a solution became clear— when the metaphorical lightbulb lit up in her thoughts— the confidence flooded back through her, and a victorious smirk spread across her face._

_“Unless, I’m not the only one judging their character.” She prefigured, her hands falling from their intertwined position behind her back and returning to her sides._

_The council waited with held breath as quiet overpowered the space, their eyes glued to Evie as if she had two heads._

_“We could hold a council meeting on the Isle after I have a list. That way, the kids can prove themselves to all of you.” Evie motioned to the leaders seated in front of her before turning her attention back to the head of the table._

_The scowl never left Lumiere’s face but he leaned back from where his arms rested tensely on the table, crossing them over his chest in a way that told Evie he had nothing left to add. The smile on her face only grew wider._

_“Well, Evie,” Ben huffed, leaning back in a similar manner. “I think the council hears and understands your proposition. We will discuss our decision on the matter over the next couple days and let you know when we come to a consensus.” Ben’s eyes flicked towards the door behind her, enough of a gesture for Evie to remember that she was still intruding on a meeting. She thanked him quickly, turning to leave and stopping just short of the door handle._

_“And, Ben— King Ben,” she corrected, her cheeks flushing momentarily at the use of the informality. “Your father gave me the chance to be good. I hope you’ll give these kids the same opportunity.”_

 

* * *

 

“Evie, you’re the only girl I know who would worry about their outfit on _the Isle_.” Audrey peeked over the top of her magazine from where she sat on her bed, watching as Evie meticulously folded a casual dress into her suitcase, tucking all the right edges to ensure the fabric wouldn’t wrinkle.

“I’m representing Auradon. I should at least _try_ to look nice.” The blue-haired girl rolled her eyes, pressing gently on a stack of skirts to make room for more.

Audrey sighed, setting down her magazine and standing to move towards where Evie sat on the floor.

“Mom called me again. For the fourth time today, actually.” The older girl tapped her fingers against the phone in her back pocket, leaning against the bedpost behind her. “I don’t understand why she doesn’t just call you.”

“Probably because she _only_ ever calls you.” Evie offered, a tinge of sadness sparking inside her as the cellphone in her lap remained dormant.

“Or _probably_ because she’s mad at you.” The brunette shot back, earning a disgruntled shake of the head from Evie. “She thinks you’re leaving because you hate her.”

The taller girl pulled her phone from her back pocket, beginning to tap away on it as the blue-haired girl covered her face with a folded shirt, groaning loudly into it.

“Tell Aurora I don’t hate her.” Evie pulled the shirt away and tossed it into the suitcase, her mind swimming in an overwhelming number of thoughts.

“And she says she doesn’t think she’ll survive without seeing you for so long.” Audrey continued, making Evie wish more than ever that the girl had a mute-button.

“We only visit her once a month, anyway. I’ll be gone for a few weeks, not a few years.” Evie said, her own words sending a chill up her arms as she realized the meaning behind them.

The reality of living on the Isle for an extended period of time came in waves that felt like piles of bricks in Evie’s stomach, even when the plan still felt like the basis of some dream that she would wake up from any minute.

The emotions racing through her were an even mix of fear and excitement, and _lucky_ for Evie, both made her hands shake and her heart pound.

“She thinks you’ll get yourself killed out there and then she’ll have to live with the guilt of letting you leave.” Audrey imitated her mother’s voice mockingly, her eyes still focused on the phone screen that she seemed far more invested in than the conversation they were having.

Again, Evie couldn’t stop her face from scrunching up in indignation.

Aurora always was dramatic— it was probably what made her the best storyteller— and Evie was certain there was little to worry about on the Isle, but her chest tightened as she considered Aurora’s fabricated possibilities.

A loud and obnoxious sigh pulled Evie’s attention from the idea just in time to stop her stomach from souring at the thought.

“You should be listening to her. I don’t know what fantasy you have in your head about what it will be like there, but it’s wrong. They _are_ villains, Evie, and you shouldn’t think any more of them,” Audrey legitimized, sending anger like a hot dagger into Evie’s chest. She knew that the older girl excluded Evie from that reasoning, but it still stung, considering the fact that she could have easily been one of those villain kids on the island.

She didn’t point out the disrespect lacing the remark, tucking the statement away as something to dwell on later.

“If you’re here to try and convince me to stay, you’re wasting your breath,” Evie mumbled, reminded of the fact that everyone at Auradon Prep (or, at least those who cared to) had already said their goodbyes to her. Bailing at the last minute would feel like a cruel joke to the ones that had already wrapped their mind around not seeing her for the next three weeks. And as if she could ever get cold feet after all the work King Ben had put in to allow her to go. There was no turning back now— not that she had any second thoughts.

Audrey, as per usual, only had one response to Evie. A long, drawn out sigh. Evie didn’t have to think long to figure out where Audrey had gotten her dramatics from.

The brunette pushed off the bed post and ambled to where Evie sat, holding a hand out to the younger girl in an effort to help her up. Evie accepted the gesture, brushing down the skirt of her dress as she stood.

“Just— be safe, okay? Don’t do anything stupid.” Audrey rested a hand on Evie’s shoulder, ending her comment with a faux smile that told Evie she already had done something stupid in her older sister’s eyes.

She had to search to find the love behind Audrey’s words, but it was there, behind layers and layers of disinterested facades.

Normally, Evie wouldn’t, but against her better judgement, she wrapped her arms around the brunette’s back, pulling her into a hug that made Audrey groan in falsified disapproval.

“I’ll be good,” Evie promised.

Audrey pulled away first, her face still void of emotion, as the two exchanged quick goodbyes before the older girl gathered up her purse and left through the bedroom door, probably off to catch the end of the boys Tourney practice.

Audrey’s goodbye had been the easiest yet— a quality stemming mostly from the brunettes apathy towards the situation— which Evie was thankful for; she didn’t think she could stand to see another one of her friends tearing up or begging her to stay.

The silence Audrey left behind rung in Evie’s ears for no longer than a couple minutes, interrupted unsurprisingly by yet another visitor, knocking on the door to probably offer their warmest of farewells. They always promised to keep her in their thoughts, with a sad smile on their face and a hand over their chest, eyes swimming in sympathy, as if Evie leaving to the Isle was some tragedy she was being forced into.

She put on her best smile as she pulled the door open— hoping a look of cheeriness would dissuade whoever stood behind the door from adding any gloom to the already confronting situation— but immediately dropped the front as scruffy blonde hair and a familiar golden beast seal came into view.

“Ben,” she greeted, pulling the door open wider in a silent gesture to welcome him inside. But the king didn’t move from his spot in the hallway, flashing her a genuine smile that radiated a warmth Evie couldn’t stop herself from mimicking.

“Evie,” Ben mirrored, his tone lacking the kingly nuances that Evie had previously heard at the council meeting. “I just thought I’d stop by to make sure you have everything ready for the trip.”

Evie averted her gaze from the smiling boy, turning her attention to the suitcase that lay open on the floor of her dorm room. The sight forced a huff of dissatisfaction from inside her. She wondered how she ever thought one tiny case would be enough to hold all the necessities she would have to tote along with her.

“I’m getting there.”

“Do you think you’ll get there in the next thirty minutes? The limousine driver said he’s heading out soon.” Evie didn’t truly know the answer to the question but she nodded adamantly nonetheless; Ben didn’t have to know that she still couldn’t decide on whether or not to bring formal attire or to keep things casual.

“And you’re _sure_ you want to do this?” Evie knew the confirmation was coming— as it did from everyone else at Auradon— and she held back the sudden urge to roll her eyes.

“Why is everyone so worried about me? Is there anyone here that thinks maybe this is a _good_ idea?” Her fists clenched momentarily at her sides, a part of her feeling the twinge of guilt that came from snapping at the king unexpectedly.

And in typical Ben-fashion, he simply chuckled quietly and shook his head, eyes averting to the floor briefly before he brought the green irises back to Evie’s brown ones.

“I think it’s one of the best ideas to come from a council meeting. And I think you’re incredibly brave for volunteering to go back to the Isle.” His smile grew wider with each word, and Evie felt her own lips tugging at the compliment. It was the first time flattery had been used in any relation to her decision to leave, and it ricocheted through her thoughts, blanketing them in a pride that she had forgotten existed inside her since the day she barged into Ben’s castle.

“I actually came here to give you something,” he continued, drawing her attention for the first time to the way his hands hadn’t left their hidden position behind his back. Evie raised her eyebrows at the comment, curiosity clouding the rest of her senses at the idea that someone had actually brought her a goodbye-present. “It was recovered from the Isle when you were a baby, and if anyone should have it, I would want it to be you.” The description of an item from the Isle only piqued Evie’s interest further, the anticipation building to an unbearable level as Ben pulled his hands from behind his back, revealing a shard of broken glass enveloped in an intricate gold frame.

It didn’t take a genius to pin the item as a fragment of her mother’s magic mirror, but the realization stole the breath from Evie’s lungs, flushing her cheeks in a pale hue that she figured to be far from flattering on her face.

“The Evil Queen’s magic mirror,” she vocalized her discovery, hands already reaching out to touch the object that was once wielded by the villain, craving to feel whatever amount of connection it held to the woman she would have called her mother.

“It’s said that it can answer any question you ask it. Of course, it’s never worked for any of us,” he furthered, pushing his hands forward slightly in a gesture to encourage Evie to take the mirror rather than stare at it as if it would burst into flames at any moment.

The cold metal sent a wave of tiny bumps up her arm as she finally brought the magical artifact into her grasp— an action that filled her with an eery sense of familiarity, like the exact dips and folds of her hands were crafted precisely to hold the mirror in them.

“Thank you, Ben,” she said breathlessly, too invested in the sight of her own reflection to bother with formalities. His warm-hearted smile returned with just as much— if not, more— fervor, and he bowed shortly to the blue-haired girl.

“I’ll see you at the bridge.” He straightened and turned to walk back from the way he came, leaving Evie alone again, this time with a new set of overpowering thoughts to crowd her mind even further.

She let the bedroom door swing shut behind her, eyes suddenly entranced by the shimmering glass in her hands as she made her way catatonically to the edge of her bed.

Evie stared into the broken reflection a moment longer before she tore her gaze away, reminded of the progress she still had left to make on packing her suitcase.

Reminiscing in the borrowed memories of the mirror would have to wait until after she got to the Isle.

The connection to the object ripped from her fingers as she slid the round frame in between a stack of shirts for safekeeping, and returned to the tedious folding of the clothing sprawled out on the floor.

 

* * *

 

The walk to the bridge was one filled with just enough quiet to set her thoughts back to the endless loops of anticipation and nerves she had been trying to avoid.

The sun still hung a little less than halfway down the sky, shading the city in its usual mid-afternoon glow as she tapped along the stone paths, the wheels of her rolling suitcase clunking along behind her.

From afar, Evie could see the glimmer of the black limousine and the beginnings of the golden bridge, where citizens dotted the edge, staring in the direction Evie was coming from. Some caught sight of her blue hair early on, sending waves of excitement her way before the ones surrounding noticed and followed suit. A smile formed on her lips as she grew near the mass of people, feeling more like a celebrity than she ever had while in Auradon.

She found it ironic that the citizens had only become interested in her the moment she decided to go back to where many of them thought she belonged, but she didn’t focus on that negativity.

As expected, Ben was the first to step forward, catching up to her before she made it to the center of the gathering, and offering to take her suitcase like the gentleman he was. Evie didn’t protest, thanking him quietly as they continued to walk.

“You’ve attracted quite the fanbase,” he pointed out, motioning to the horde of people waiting to see her off the island she had spent the majority of her life on.

Among them, Evie spotted a few familiar faces— Doug, Audrey, her parents, and many other students that attended Auradon Prep with her— some wearing looks of amazement, and the rest holding expressions that Evie could only describe as curious concern.

She giggled politely in response, being at the center of attention holding her full focus as they reached the trunk of the limo.

“We’ll meet up once a week. Every Friday. You’ll keep us updated and we’ll bring any supplies that you need.” Ben reminded her as he lifted the suitcase into the vehicle.

The chatter began to pour in around them as soon as the trunk shut, the area consumed by reporters calling out to Ben and families mumbling amongst themselves about the strange event that was about to take place.

“I guess I’ll see you in a week, then.” Her voice somehow remained composed through the smile hiding her nerves, her hand resting on the handle that opened the excessively large back seat of the limousine. Ben returned the grin, sticking his hand out for her to shake.

“I wish you the best of luck, Evie.” The talking ceased as he said it, as if each citizen was attempting to hear the last words that their king had to say.

Evie took the hand, but rather than shaking it, she tugged it closer, enveloping the boy in a tight hug. Ben didn’t protest, wrapping his arms around her momentarily before they separated, the embrace instilling Evie with the warmth she had started to feel a lack of.

“Thank you for everything, Ben.” Her voice was just above a whisper, as if it was something she wanted just him— and not the crowd of onlookers— to hear.

“It’s been my pleasure.”

Evie ducked her head, the corners of her eyes beginning to well with tears of an emotion that she struggled to place. And with one last look towards the citizens followed by a few choice waves to the ones that mattered most, Evie tugged open the car door and climbed inside, her heart drumming a beat that made her lungs feel as if they had run out of air.

The chatter returned with a vengeance, shouts of questions and concerns too loud for Evie to block out from inside the vehicle. The back window of the limo begged for her attention, the knowledge that her family stood on the other side making it almost impossible to suppress the urge to look back at them. Almost.

The engine roared to life and the limo inched forward, filling the space surrounding it with an even mix of cheers and protests. Evie was sure her family and friends were waving but she refused to confirm that suspicion. She had already said her goodbyes. (And she was sure that one more glance would be enough to finally send tears running down her cheeks.)

She watched from the side window as the bumper of the car reached the edge of the bridge— close enough to tipping off the edge for Evie to hold her breath in suspense— just before particles of gold and yellow filled the emptiness in front of it, collecting as a dense cloud of specks that bound together to create the bricks of the magical bridge one by one.

The first wheel touched the new material, the sounds of the citizens slowly fading behind Evie, and her chest tightened, the weight of reality finally sinking in.

She was leaving Auradon. And more importantly, she was going to the Isle of the Lost.

And though she’d been hoping for years to get out of Auradon, a part of her chest ached as the golden bricks whizzed past the limousine’s wheels, and she found herself hoping she would see her mostly lifelong home again, soon.

It didn’t take more than a few minutes to drive past the briefly weakened barrier, and it didn’t take more than a few seconds for Evie to determine that they had crossed it.

The mid-afternoon glow had disappeared completely, replacing itself with a dreary, overcast sky that only let in light through breaks in the gray rainclouds that smothered the gray streets in an even grayer hue.

Even the golden bridge seemed to have lost its luster under the clouds.

The water below held an odor that somehow seeped through the closed windows and doors of the vehicle, the smell of stagnant water and rotten fish invading its way inside like an unwelcome guest.

And just as she had seen minutes before— as if the Isle was just an inverse of Auradon— citizens stood along the broken edge of the bridge. Hundreds of them— if not more.

Each one stood with arms crossed over their ripped clothing, scowls perched on their dirty, sweat-stained faces.

And as the limo came to a complete stop in front of them, not a single one wore a look that resembled anything along the lines of curiosity. Just disgust, anger, and more disgust.

Evie felt stuck to her seat as she stared wide-eyed at the sight— the sight of the people she had spent an entire lifetime dreaming of, the ones that she could have considered her neighbors in another life.

“This is your stop,” the driver called back to Evie after what must have been a full minute of her remaining frozen with a hand resting uneasily on the door handle. It was enough to pull her from the whir of thoughts ringing between her ears, and she nodded hesitantly as her fingers pushed open the door at last.

The stench coming from the water hit her at full strength, churning her stomach in a way that made her thankful she hadn’t eaten before she left.

The citizens didn’t move, didn’t speak, probably didn’t _breathe_ as Evie made her way to the back of the vehicle and popped open the trunk to reveal her suitcase. She lifted it out and shut the trunk through the uncomfortable silence, stepping towards the crowd once again and thanking the driver shortly for his service.

She wasn’t ready for the car to leave— wasn’t ready to face the intimidation waiting for her alone— but the limousine made a U-turn anyway, speeding off in the direction it came from and leaving her stranded in the middle of a horde of villains, who all stared at Evie as if they wanted her as their next meal.

So, Evie did what she knew she did best in stressful situations.

She plastered the most believable of fake smiles that she could muster onto her lips and waved at the citizens of the Isle, hoping it wouldn’t be the last movement she would make.

No one smiled. And no one waved back.

And Evie had never felt more like an outcast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos are gladly accepted and appreciated! i love any and all feedback!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, this update came kind of really late, mostly because i wrote it, hated it, pouted about it, then rewrote the entire thing until i was happy with it. it’s really long tho so hopefully that makes up for it. 
> 
> here it is; the chapter that brings the first glimmer of malvie into this fic!
> 
> i hope you all weren’t under the impression that they would start out as best buddies...
> 
> enjoy!

The smile on Evie’s face faded as moments passed, the tension-building silence still unwavering in its intent of intimidating the blue-haired girl.

And she would be lying if she claimed the cutting glares weren’t making her knees feel as if they were seconds from buckling under her own weight.

She leaned on the handle of her suitcase for support, searching the crowd for any sign of expressions that read anything other than intense dissatisfaction. The results unsurprisingly came up empty.

But just when she thought she would crack under the uneasiness of the situation, the crowd shifted slightly, bodies knocking against one another as a break appeared through the middle, revealing waves of purple hair framing a scowl so severe, it made the others beside it seem neutral in comparison.

Evie couldn’t help the gasp that shook through her chest at the sight of the locks, never before seeing someone with hair as vibrant as her own.

Auradon was— and always had been— a land of blonde, brunette, and ginger, but seeing a girl with locks of deep lilac instilled a sense of belonging inside Evie, as if she had been waiting her entire life to find someone who resembled her own unusual attributes.

The purple-haired girl pushed past the angry onlookers, crossing her arms over her chest after she broke free, eyes glowing an unnatural and unnerving green as they locked onto Evie’s dark brown in a fierce glare that sent her stomach jumping into her throat.

She stopped a few feet short of Evie, the hue of her eyes somehow growing in intensity as she continued to stare. The bright irises seemingly bored past Evie’s own, burning through her mind and clouding it with an icy chill that forced her to tear away from the look. Evie’s eyes found the girl’s attire (an outfit far less tattered than than the other citizens’) instead, which predominantly consisted of various shades of purple leathers, patched together in ways that vaguely resembled a jacket and pants.

Evie cleared her throat in an effort to both settle her nerves and prepare to speak, her hands interlocking behind her back as they always did when she felt far less than confident.

“Hello,” she started, speaking loud enough for all to hear, but only addressing the girl in front of her. A collective gasp reverberated through the crowd, heads turning to look disbelievingly at one another as if she had muttered some profanity. “My name is Evie.”

Evie flashed her brightest grin, expecting to earn a similar one in return until the green-eyed girl finally broke her stare, leaning over and sending waves of purple dangling past her shoulders. And before Evie had a chance to react, the girl pursed her lips, using a hand to drag a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she spat on the tip of Evie’s black boot.

She held back the gasp and the disgust pulling at the corner of her lips as her mind struggled to comprehend the gesture she had just witnessed, but the only defined thought to surface was a sudden appreciation that she had chosen a close-toed shoe for her trip to the island.

And as the shorter girl straightened, the citizens erupted in shouts of approval, their fists shooting into the air and painting their faces for the first time in an expression that resembled excitement. A smug grin grew on the girl’s face as an embarrassed red tint spread across Evie’s.

But just as suddenly as the cheers started, they stumbled to a jolting halt as the crowd separated once more— this time splitting distinctly as a shadowy, towering figure appeared in the center of the clearing, smacking the bottom end of a staff into the dirt in a way that sent the villain citizens jumping back even farther.

Immediately, Evie noticed the ominous horns that rose from the top of the individual— a feature she had only heard mentions of from Aurora, but one that still felt familiar enough to stop the beating of her heart momentarily.

Maleficent herself stepped forward, hissing a demand for silence as she waved the staff in her hand dramatically. Evie gaped up at her, jaw falling open in fear, her mind only finding the ability to reflect on the story of the horned woman putting Aurora under a spell that had almost killed her. Anger raced through her veins like fire, burning her cheeks a darker red and filling her stomach with an itching desire to express the irritation building inside her.

Maleficent swiftly wiped her face of any malice once she found Evie to be staring, replacing her scowl with a sickly sweet smile that twisted Evie’s stomach in a knot.

“Now, now, darling, that is not how we treat our guests.” The woman spoke through gritted teeth as she stepped forward, slapping a hand onto the purple-haired girl’s shoulder and gripping it tightly— so tight, Evie felt herself wince sympathetically as the shorter girl grimaced.

Maleficent’s voice was shrill and chilling— just as bad as Aurora had always described it and worse— and just frightening enough for Evie to begin to feel her hands growing restless and shaky behind her back.

“I do believe you owe this young girl an apology, Mal.”

The crowd rumbled in quiet confusion that Evie found herself participating in, her eyes locked on the younger girl who snapped her gaze disgustedly towards Maleficent.

“Are you kidding me?” Mal questioned, her eyebrows rising on her forehead as she lowered her chin.

Evie watched, stunned to silence as the woman that she assumed to be Mal’s mother dug deeper into the purple-haired girl’s shoulder, her nails disappearing past the fabric of her jacket. Mal let out a low groan, obviously tensing under the painful grasp as she sucked in a breath and let it out slowly.

“My _sincerest_ apologies,” Mal growled, the words spitting and sarcastic.

Evie forced a small smile, hoping the concern wasn’t too evident on her face as the horde of citizens continued their quiet mutters of revulsion, whispering to one another in a way that told Evie apologies were not a common or welcome occurrence on the Isle.

Maleficent let go soon after, giving Mal the opportunity to slip away, her hand instantly gravitating to her shoulder as she stomped off with a few colorful words, using her uninjured arm to shove past the crowd.

The older villain straightened, clearing her throat and inspecting the nails that had previously been buried in leather, before finally bringing her eyes back to Evie with the same smile still perched upon her lips.

“Welcome to the Isle of the Lost.” She extended both arms, motioning to the pathetic, run-down buildings and dirt roads that lined the space behind her and the citizens. “We are so, _very_ glad to be hosting you.” Her tone read warmth, but her face betrayed her, revealing the cruelty that laced through the words.

“Thank you. It’s an honor,” Evie replied, bowing her head politely despite her knowledge that Maleficent’s statement was falsely kind (and the fact that her immediate hatred towards the woman made her want be anything other than pleasant). The horned woman chuckled softly, her eyes still emanating a color almost identical to Mal’s, if not brighter.

“I’ve arranged a tour of the island for you,” Maleficent continued, her voice unrelenting in sending the hairs standing up on Evie’s neck. “ _Carlos!_ ” She shouted seconds after, causing Evie to instinctively jump back, her knees shaking beneath her as Maleficent turned to the crowd with neon green shining from her eyes.

She watched as the people of the Isle looked amongst themselves, mumbled chatter breaking out once more as they searched for the so-called Carlos

“Where is the rugrat?” Maleficent spat, her voice still loud and piercing enough to fill the air with a tension that Evie hoped she wasn’t alone in feeling.

And once again, the crowd rippled with movement until a boy was shoved past them, fumbling and calling out in protest against the hands that were pushing him into the clearing.

He was small and frail in comparison to the others, his eyes wide in fright that his strangely white hair only accentuated. He wore a leather jacket similar to Mal’s but colored in reds, blacks, whites, and even a fur collar that sparked curiosity in Evie as to how such a fabric had come to the Isle.

Maleficent grinned in mischievous delight before turning again to the crowd, her eyes just as intense and frightening as she squinted them to slits.

“Everyone,” she projected with a volume that drew every eye in the city towards her. “As you were.”

The command sent the citizens into a frenzy of footsteps— every person scurrying off into the city in a way that made Evie question whether or not Maleficent was to the Isle what Ben was to Auradon. She supposed the villain must be of a high status if she had the ability to send the entire island running as if their lives depended on it.

Maleficent followed suit as soon as most of the gathering had disappeared, stopping as she reached Carlos to mumble something that Evie was too far to hear. The boy’s eyes widened, a terrified frown tugging at his lips before he nodded quickly, refusing to watch as she sauntered off, dragging her robe along in the dirt behind her.

Carlos didn’t step forward until the area was void of inhabitants, his face calming gradually as the distance increased between him and Maleficent. He looked over his shoulders a few times before meeting Evie where she stood and sticking his hand out, a wide smile painting across his visage.

“Carlos De Vil. Son of Cruella.”

Evie gladly accepted the gesture, bringing the boy’s calloused hand into her own and shaking it, thankful for the first glimmer of goodness to come from the island.

“Evie Rose. Daughter of Evil Queen. Adopted by Princess Aurora,” she mirrored, a smile creeping back onto her face at the realization that far less eyes were on her in the moment. Carlos nodded shortly as if he already knew the information, clearing his throat and extending an arm towards the city that surrounded them.

“Well, this is the Isle,” he chuckled awkwardly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It’s not much but—“ his voice trailed as he tried to finish the statement, but he abandoned the attempt, instead, ending his statement with a shrug and a weak hum.

He started towards a narrow pathway and Evie followed close behind, eyes scanning over the landscape with the hope that she would find something other than dingy shacks and vine-ridden buildings.

Once again, that search came up empty.

Carlos started his speech-like descriptions of the town as they made their way through endless twists and turns that each brought new buildings and houses brimmed with citizens who seemed unable to look away from their new blue-haired visitor.

They passed a small shop that Carlos described as one of the only markets in town, owned by none other than the world-renowned thief, Jafar, and his just-as-sticky-fingered son, Jay. At a glance, Evie didn’t see more than heaping piles of useless junk, but the wonder filling Carlos’ eyes as he stared at the piles reminded her that trash was all the citizens of the Isle received— and she supposed that made it all treasure.

The wider streets were lined with booths and stands, selling moldy fruits and soggy vegetables that Carlos eagerly grabbed from without paying, earning a glare of general indignation from the owners.

“You’re here to take kids back to Auradon, right?” Carlos asked abruptly, breaking his tour guidance as they ambled along the dusty dirt paths. He bit into a heavily bruised apple, savoring the taste before pulling the fruit away to reveal brown pulp that Evie would never dared to have eaten in Auradon.

“I’m hoping to,” she answered easily, studying the small boy’s facial expression for any sign of meaning behind the sudden interest. A beat of silence followed before Carlos broke it with a follow-up question.

“So, what are your requirements?” His voice fell soft and meek as his eyes dropped to the ground below, hands locking behind his back. The smallest of smirks came to Evie’s face as she discerned a possible reasoning for the inquiry.

“Why? Are you interested?”

Immediately, the boy flushed a deep red, unintelligent noises spewing from his mouth before he was able to form a close-to-cohesive sentence.

“Oh no, I — of course not— I’m evil. I would never want to live in a city full of rich goodie-goodies,” Carlos spat, his arms already crossing over the front of his jacket in defense, leaving the apple to dangle by his side and drip juice into the dirt. Evie didn’t push the subject— mostly because of the way Carlos had reacted primarily— but the smirk remained, a part of her mind already considering the pale boy as a possible candidate. He cleared his throat, pointing to a towering castle beyond a group of shacks, probably with the hope that it would draw Evie’s attention from the heat in his cheeks.

“That was Evil Queen’s castle, before—“ Evie didn’t need him to finish for the blank to fill itself, freezing the girl to a halt as she stared in awe at the place that probably would have housed her childhood. She had to give Carlos props for choosing a topic as distracting as her biological mother to pull the focus from his embarrassment.

“Can we go there?”

“Not unless you have a death wish. It’s been overrun with goblins for years. They started a society of villains against the Evil Queen after she used them as slaves, and I’m sure they wouldn’t be very welcoming towards her daughter,” he explained, shooting a look towards the blue-haired girl that read something along the lines of sympathy. She shrugged in return, hoping to give the vibe of indifference while her hands still felt as if they were tingling at the mere thought of seeing her mother’s tower.

An awkward silence followed the end of the discussion, looming in the air as they circled back towards the bridge, only broken when Carlos would occasionally stop to announce the names of the ‘landmarks’ they were passing. None of which were very remarkable— nothing like the wonders of Auradon that had earned the same title.

The bargain castle that Maleficent resided in rose above all the other buildings, the very top reaching a height that seemed as if it could disappear beyond the clouds. It was, by far, the most elegant structure among them all— even as mold visibly lined the bottom like a baseboard and the windows wore cracks and wooden boards that seemed to be the only thing stopping the glass from shattering down to the alley below.

Evie’s eyes scanned the alley lining the building until they found familiar locks of purple leaned against the castle’s wall, refilling her stomach with the same uneasy feeling she had felt when standing in front of the girl.

Mal picked at her nails, her face still twisted in a glower that Evie was beginning to think was permanent. The blue-haired girl’s gaze refused to tear from the sight of Maleficent’s daughter, her feet suddenly anchored to the ground. Carlos soon noticed her frozen state, following her line of vision until he found the girl that had captured her attention.

“Don’t mind Mal. she’s mean to everyone at first, but—“ Carlos began, probably referring to the purple-haired girl’s form of greeting from when Evie had first arrived.

“Her bark is worse than her bite?” Evie cut in, finishing the statement without taking her eyes off the way Mal angrily tugged at her fingers.

“No, her bark is just as bad as her bite,” he chuckled, rubbing at the leather sleeve on his arm. The declination sent Evie’s eyebrows falling on her face, her lips pursing in confusion until the boy continued. “But she’s not so terrible, even if she acts like she’s the baddest of them all.”

His admission didn’t ease the quickening beat against her ribs, but did spark a flame of curiosity inside her, the wheels turning in her head as she considered the meaning of the words.

“Don’t tell her I said that or she’ll make me wish I hadn’t.” He wagged his finger in her direction as a warning, and as if the girl had heard, Mal’s green eyes snapped towards them, landing on Evie as they squinted to slits. The purple-haired girl’s teeth showed in a menacing smile that Carlos must have noticed, prompting a fearful whimper from the small boy. Evie found it hard to stop a similar one from escaping her own throat.

Immediately, Carlos’ hand was on Evie’s arm, tugging her from where she stood frozen in front of the alley in an attempt to free her from the girl’s line of sight, but Mal was already pushing from the wall, starting in their direction.

It wasn’t hard for her to catch up— considering Carlos was doing his best to make it seem as if he weren’t avoiding her— and when she did reach the two of them, she cleared her throat loudly, stopping Carlos in his tracks. He turned around to face her, pulling Evie with him.

“Hey, Carlos,” she sung, circling around them like a predator stalking its prey. Evie swallowed the lump forming in her throat, just glad that Mal hadn’t addressed her.

“Oh— hey, Mal,” he followed her with his eyes as she walked, his voice cracking under the tension that Evie could feel looming in the space between them and the girl. The smile remained intimidatingly on Mal’s lips as she stepped closer, finally looking from Carlos to meet Evie’s gaze.

“Why don’t you take five, Carlos? I can finish up the tour.” Her voice was laced with sickly sweetness— exactly as her mother’s had been, and the striking resemblance evoked the same chills on Evie’s arms. “I’m sure your mother has some chores for you to do, anyway.”

Carlos and Evie exchanged worried glances, the blue-haired girl wishing she could shake her head without coming off as rude.

“Your mom wanted me to show her around. I don’t think I should—“

“Carlos. _Go._ ” The grin didn’t falter as Mal barked the command, but her eyes did flash with intense green that made both Carlos and Evie take a prudent step away from the shorter girl.

Carlos looked towards Evie apologetically, to which she forced an obviously strained smile.

“It’s fine, Mal can show me the rest.” Evie hoped her eyes weren’t betraying the statement and revealing the apprehension lingering beyond her composed facade as she spoke, but the concern that still painted over the boy’s visage told Evie that was wishful thinking. He nodded anyway in response as Mal’s irises dimmed to their normal hue, her arms crossing over her chest. “It was nice to meet you, Carlos.” Evie waved as the boy shuffled off with a mix of annoyance and fear lingering on his face, leaving just the two girls in the empty streets that surrounded Bargain Castle.

Evie couldn’t help but notice the way citizens actively avoided the area, and the thought of being alone with a girl that still looked as if she wanted Evie’s head on a platter fostered her growing desire to be back with the rest of the population.

Mal cleared her throat once again, drawing Evie from the whirring of her thoughts, as the purple-haired girl started down the street— a gesture that Evie took as an instruction to follow.

“I’m sure Carlos must have forgotten to mention— and maybe you’re not observant enough to notice— but my mother and I don’t really like visitors.” Mal explained, her voice low and smooth, but somehow still holding enough bite to sound threatening. Evie let the piece of information sink in, a part of her wishing Carlos would have informed her of it before she decided to stand wide-eyed in the middle of what she now knew to be forbidden territory.

“Noted,” Evie muttered under her breath, just loud enough for the other girl to hear as they followed a path that led back to the bridge she had arrived from, her rolling suitcase still tapping rhythmically beside her.

Silence rented the air between them until Mal stole it back with a sigh that blended into the next words that she spoke.

“Daughter of sleeping beauty,” the shorter girl said as if she were questioning the status just for the sake of bringing it into conversation. Uneasiness plagued Evie’s stomach at the mention of Aurora and the underlying hints of their mothers’ long-standing history. She would have nodded, but settled on staying quiet when she realized Mal wasn’t staring in her direction. Thankfully, the girl continued without needing a confirmation. “How _is_ Aurora doing these days?” This time, Mal did bring her gaze to the blue-haired girl, turning and beginning to walk backwards to maintain the look.

Evie furrowed her eyebrows, struggling to find intention behind the inquiry.

“She’s fine,” Evie answered cautiously, though it held more suspicion than she had intended. A smirk grew on Mal’s lips, a hand reaching up to twist a stray strand of purple between her thumb and forefinger.

“Still awake, huh?”

Instantly, Evie’s cheeks flushed pale at the latent malice of the remark— a noticeable change that Mal quirked an eyebrow at, visibly complacent with the reaction she evoked from the blue-haired girl.

Evie replied with a slow nod, skepticism squinting her eyes as Mal’s face seemingly returned to neutrality, a low hum of contemplation falling from her lips.

Evie watched a moment longer, suddenly confused by the way Mal’s gaze had fallen to the pavement, before she decided to speak up once more.

“Listen, Mal,” she began, studying the shorter girl’s expression to see if it would light up with any indication of why their conversation had brought them to where they were. “I’m not here to focus on the past. Your mother’s choices don’t affect your chances of coming to Auradon.”

And at that, Mal’s expression did light up— but not in the way Evie had hoped for. Instead, the purple-haired girl raised her eyebrows as she let out a scoff that escalated to quiet laughter. It was a sound that dotted Evie’s skin in goosebumps, though the setting sun made it difficult to distinguish the origin of the sensation from fear or the dropping temperature.

“Oh, good, because I was _so_ worried.”

The snark lacing her words was enough to twist Evie’s face in annoyance, not only towards Mal, but towards herself, too, for misreading the context of the conversation so drastically.

That was the Auradonian in her, she supposed; always thinking the best of people.

Mal finally turned back to the path, the faded glow of the falling sun tinting her cheeks in faint hues of orange and yellow that only drew attention to how late it was becoming. The dim streetlights failed in offering much illumination to the ground below, and even the moon hid behind the dense, dark clouds that floated stagnantly above the tops of the buildings.

“Although, the thought of being surrounded by hundreds of prissy-pink princesses, just waiting to be cursed, _is_ tempting,” Mal tacked on, flashing a sinister grin back to Evie that only added to the aggravation boiling in her blood.

Evie breathed out a steadying sigh as she crossed her arms over her chest and let her anger decide that she had seen enough of the Isle— or, more specifically, Mal— for one night.

“Are we done here?” Her attempt to channel some of Mal’s own biting tone proved successful when the shorter girl quirked a brow in a way that conveyed some form of impressed surprise— as if she hadn’t expected a mere drop of nastiness from an Auradon girl, but still secretly hoped to pull some from the blue-haired girl.

“Ah, yes, I forgot that you Auradonions like to be asleep before the double-digit numbers, don’t you?” Mal feigned an expression of deep thought, as though she were pulling the information from deep inside her mind, but Evie saw directly through the front, recognizing the remark for the anger it was meant to elicit.

And just as transparently, Evie played back a disinterested exterior, ignoring the content of the question and continuing on to the ones she had of her own.

“Where will I be staying?”

Mal stopped her slowed pace at that, neon green irises flashing vindictively as she conjured a just-as-snide answer.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll find a cozy dumpster to cuddle up next to.” Evie watched in disgruntled silence as Mal started towards her, refraining from portraying the panic that tightened her chest as Mal leaned in dangerously close, speaking in a voice that blurred the line between whispering and talking. “Evil dreams, princess. Be sure to sleep with one eye open.” And with a malicious wink, Mal continued right past Evie, throwing her head back in a chilling laugh that echoed through the empty streets and rung in Evie’s ears.

And as soon as Mal was far enough from her, Evie, latched a hand back onto the handle of her suitcase, dragging it along behind her, too eager to leave the area to worry about how cluttered the inside must be becoming as it rolled over the endless bumps and cracks of the path.

It didn’t take long to find an alley suitable enough for Evie to call her home for the night, considering her one and only requirement was that it was as far away from Bargain Castle as possible.

The sun had long since disappeared from the sky, showering the city in a darkness that Evie had never witnessed in Auradon, and leaving behind a cold dampness that seeped through her clothing and nipped at the skin underneath. The alley was even darker, but not enough to hide the trash littering the ground or the graffitied walls, plastered with messages of villainy, complimented by detailed drawings of the villains themselves and the occasional defiled portrait of King Beast with red x’s painted over his eyes.

The sound of water dripping against a puddle emanated from the space, and even as Evie found an area not covered in sitting water, the roof above her began to trickle water from its broken shingles, landing one drop mockingly on the tip of her nose and prompting her face to scrunch up at the sensation.

She slid down the brick wall with a sigh, her legs aching in protest of all the walking she had participated in, and hurriedly slipped her boots from her feet, desperate for the tips of her toes to feel something other than the uncomfortable compression that her shoes had offered. She pushed them against the wall, feeling disgusted all over again at the dark watermark that now resided on one of the toe caps, from where Mal had first ‘introduced herself’.

Evie shook the reminder from her head and turned to the suitcase at her side, unzipping the main compartment and reaching in to find the object she was in search of. And when she did, she tugged out her hand, fingers wrapped around the spine of a royal blue notebook with gold corners and vine-like swirls lining the edges.

The pencil enclosed behind the front cover fell to Evie’s lap as she opened the journal, exposing the blank, lined pages, practically begging to be written on.

She took the pencil between her fingers, labeling the page as ‘list’ in the upper margin, tapping the eraser side of the utensil on the paper as she considered what would follow the title.

The first name sparked almost immediately in her thoughts, an obvious choice after the kindness she had seen from the person after only one day on the Isle.

_Carlos De Vil— Son of Cruella De Vil._

She let the pencil linger two lines below it and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth at the realization of what her fingers craved to write next.

Her thoughts brought her back to a particular piece of information— one that had been uttered to her unmindfully, but one that still refused to leave her head without further contemplation.

_She’s not so terrible, even if she acts like she’s the baddest of them all._

It seemed meaningless at a glance, but Evie couldn’t help but wonder if there was a reason Carlos had decided to mention the tidbit. And most of all, she couldn’t help but ponder on the fact that a seemingly easy-target-of-a-boy had been so sure in his thoughts of the girl as a not-so-bad individual.

Evie knew there had to be truth in the statement, even as her first impression of the girl contradicted that so greatly.

So, throwing her better judgement to the wind, Evie pressed the pencil against the page, beginning to write once again.

_Mal— Daughter of Maleficent._

She could practically see the shock that would certainly coat Aurora’s face if she ever caught sight of the list— could practically hear Audrey and Phillip sighing disappointedly at her, claiming she was raised better than this.

But none of that prompted Evie to erase the name.

(Though, none of it helped to ease the pounding behind her ribs stemming from an emotion that felt certainly similar to guilt.)

But one basket case didn’t seem like one too many, as long as she continued to tell herself so.

Evie shut the journal at once, afraid that staring at it any longer would force her to change her mind, and shoved it back into the suitcase, allowing her eyes to fall closed reflectively. The heaviness they radiated persuaded her to reach back into the case to retrieve a few various articles of clothing and lay them over her legs in a way that acted as a makeshift blanket.

The idea of being able to sleep safely on a villain-run island— and on the concrete ground of an alley, at that— felt like wishful thinking, but as she let her head fall against the fabric of her closed suitcase, she figured that staying awake wouldn’t make her any more safe than if she dozed off.

In between the struggle of consciousness and sleep, Evie could hear the distant noise of citizens roaming the Isle, occasionally speaking to one another at a volume too quiet to hear (or perhaps she was just too tired to listen). The alley never fell completely silent— always filled with the quiet pitter-patter of water dripping— but the sound was a welcome one, holding Evie’s thoughts from their desire to wander back to the intimidation of her recent life changes.

She opened her eyes one last time, briefly reacquainting herself with the alley before shutting them, the sight lingering in her mind like a bad aftertaste.

And when they did close again, restless sleep finally filtered its way past her consciousness.

Evie dreamed of a day when she would return to Auradon with a group of kids— kids who would get their second chance and never have to see the streets of the Isle ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, at least they've finally met...
> 
> housekeeping: Evie’s last name is taken from Aurora’s alias in the original version of Sleeping Beauty where she renames herself Briar Rose to hide from Maleficent. 
> 
> updates of this fic may be pretty random— could be once a week, could be once a month— but they will come, don’t worry. 
> 
> sorry if this chapter was kinda boring, the next one will establish the main plot of this story so hopefully its more exciting.
> 
> thank you for all the support thus far, i truly appreciate every kudo and comment.
> 
> and as usual, feedback is always welcome!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took forever to get posted. i suck, i know. but at least it's over 5,000 words!
> 
> there’s a pov change in this chapter! i tried to give mal her own voice so my writing style is a lil different this chapter but i think i really like it! 
> 
> if you really squint, you’ll see some malvie relationship development. 
> 
> enjoy!

Mother certainly wouldn’t be happy with Mal— that much she knew.

Mother, being the self-decided ruler of the island, didn’t take too kindly to disrespect, especially when it was from her daughter, and even less when it was in public. (Disrespect towards others, however, was a different story— one that Maleficent was quite fond of, and greatly encouraged.)

Regardless, Mal surely couldn’t expect the woman to be pleasant after the scene she had caused by the bridge involving a quite malicious welcoming of an unwelcome visitor and some light backtalk to her mother concerning said visitor.

Mal had wracked her brain for a reason behind her mother’s sudden anger, and only grew angry herself when one refused to surface. Mother should have been thrilled with her nasty-little-girl; she spat on a princess’ shiny shoe for hell’s sake. But she wasn’t, and Mal had to remind herself that sometimes Mother was just angry for no purpose at all, and sometimes— who was she kidding, _always_ — Mal had to deal with the unjustified consequences that came along with it. Perhaps it was just one of those times.

So, hoping to avoid the brunt of those repercussions, she refused to go inside Maleficent’s castle, instead standing, pressed against the wall of an alley that hid just out of view from the windows of the castle, thinking that time would dissipate the tension— or would allow her to think of a way to make it up to her mother.

And she was having a perfectly grand time brooding against the wall that must have been the exterior of Bargain Castle’s kitchen, until the girl burning a sore spot in her mind appeared in front of her, staring like a lost, lavishly blue puppy.

Carlos practically yelped beside her as Mal caught sight of them, her stomach twisting terribly in disgust towards the girl— Evie— for being the one to land her in a world of trouble with her mother.

She made the rash decision to saunter over to them, forcing a menacing smile and a flash of the green that her eyes were known for emitting, figuring that a bit of mischief was one way to channel her irritation and waste a little time in the process.

And so she sent Carlos away and teased the girl for a while, using all her best tactics of eliciting fear and humiliation to some avail, though she had to admit, Evie held a much calmer air than she would have expected. The blue-haired girl did eventually crack, a hint of fire entering her words in a way that truly shocked Mal, but she played off of it easily, dismissing Evie from her presence with no less than an implied threat against the girl’s wellbeing. Mal had leaned in so close to utter it, she could see the hairs lifting on Evie’s neck— and really, that made the whole experience worth it.

And though the sun had already begun to set, meaning a solid few hours had passed since the incident at the bridge, Mal knew better than to return so soon— and empty-handed at that. Maleficent had a reputation for holding onto grudges, and if Aurora’s stupid christening wasn’t an indication of that, then Mal didn’t know what was.

So, she wandered the streets, mumbling curses and searching for some form of a gift to act as a bribe against a lecture, as one does, smiling at the glances of fear in her direction as she walked, as one also does.

The roads of the Isle seemed to come alive at night, but somehow felt lifeless, too, filling the air with an undead eeriness that Mal knew all too well. Nighttime was when the boring slept, but when the malicious carried out their tasks of misbehavior.

Mal tended to fall somewhere in the middle, never sleeping until the morning hours, but never accomplishing anything too evil since it didn’t benefit her much. Because, if a cart of rotten apples is knocked over and no one is around to hear it, does it really make a sound? Mal never wasted her time to find out.

But tonight, Mal had to abandon that inclination, if not for the sake of saving her own tail from a beating, then to at least busy herself with something entertaining.

She wanted to find where that blue snob of a princess had run off to, because that sounded like good fun, and someone had to run her off of their island— a job Mal didn’t mind having to take part in.

Evie couldn’t have gone far— it was a tiny island, after all— and Mal knew the alleys like the back of her hand. She estimated no longer than an hour to find the girl, but rushed to do it in half, just to outdo herself.

It was annoyingly dark and the grounds felt squishy and soaked from the island’s last rain that the sun hadn’t come out yet to dry up, but Mal trudged on until she passed an alley bordering Dragon Hall that was filled with a commotion she couldn’t ignore.

She approached the corner cautiously, walking on the balls of her feet and taking in the way that four shadows casted onto the wall visible to her, indicating that the bodies of whoever they belonged to were facing away from her direction. Mal slowed to a halt and pressed her back against the brick, just close enough to the turn to remain hidden but still hear the hushed conversations taking place.

It was a mumbled discussion between what sounded to be four boys, and from what she could make out, they were having a disagreement. She ran through a short list of boys she chose to avoid on the Isle, and when none of their voices matched the ones on the list, she figured it safe enough to sneak a look around the corner.

There were, as she expected, four masked boys, huddled together in the center of the alley, shouting whispers and throwing cautionary looks towards a heap of blue hair and matching fabric pressed against the opposite wall.

Immediately, a victorious grin spread across Mal’s face, but it just as quickly faded to a scowl, her insides twisting in a newfound emotion that vaguely resembled anger. Mal stared a moment longer, watching the way the blue-haired girl looked between the boys with helplessness written across her visage (a sight Mal would usually take pleasure in seeing but presently only made the twisting inside her strengthen), before she stepped forward, clearing her throat to alert her presence.

Evie’s gaze was the first to find her, but the boys’ followed shortly after, their eyes growing wide in a mix of fear and shock, suddenly resembling the likeness of Evie.

“Robbing the new girl, are we?” Mal crossed her arms over her chest, ambling closer to where the boys stood. Their slackened jaws and terrified looks told Mal they wouldn’t find the words quick enough, and she didn’t feel like waiting, so she continued without acknowledgement. “It takes four of you to rob someone that can’t even fight back?” She tacked on with a laugh, waiting for the boys to drop the deer-in-headlights air about them. They never did, but Mal just supposed that was a perk of being the daughter of Maleficent. Evie stared on with a similar expression, but her fear was vanishing, and the twisting was easing up in Mal’s stomach. “It’s pathetic, really.”

The thieves huddled closer together, still at a loss for words; Mal didn’t need much more to scare them off. She easily conjured a brightness to her eyes— an action that had begun to feel like a reflex, she did it so often— squinting them as soon as her vision began to take on hues of green. “Beat it,” was all it took to send the boys off in a frenzy down the alley, whispering laments to one another of their tragic luck.

Mal was almost disappointed that they hadn’t put up more of a fight. But that feeling fizzled away as she found herself alone with the girl she had been on the lookout for. She stepped closer, the smirk returning to her lips as Evie dropped her hands from where they were wrapped around her knees and pressed them into the ground, as if they could somehow push her farther against the brick wall that her back was already flush with.

“You’re welcome.” Mal aired on a side of faux-civility, lacing her words with just enough snark to ensure that Evie knew there was no actual kindness in the statement.

The girl’s brown eyes blinked once but quickly returned to their widened state, her breathing obviously labored under the weight of her own nerves and adrenaline.

So vulnerable, Mal thought, already weighing a list of options and outcomes in her head. So very, very vulnerable— it would be foolish to not use the situation to her advantage.

After all, Mal had two birds to kill, and it seemed as if she had just stumbled upon the perfect stone to get the job done.

“I didn’t know what to do. They were going to—“ The explanation fell from Evie’s lips like a rushing stream, but Mal cut her off— or more accurately, Evie stopped herself— when Mal squatted down suddenly, wrapping her fingers around the strap of the suitcase and pulling it towards herself with a satisfying scrape of fabric against cement that she was sure would leave a mark.

A princess of Auradon was sure to have some money to her name, and Mal hoped the girl was dumb enough to bring some along with her.

Evie gasped at the realization of what was happening and reached to reclaim the case from its new thief, but immediately pulled her hands away as if they had been burned when Mal shot her a neon glare of warning.

“You’re going to rob someone that can’t even fight back?” Evie used Mal’s own words against her, her voice shaking slightly but still maintaining enough strength to drive the point. Mal had to give her props; it wasn’t everyday that she found someone brave enough to stand up to Maleficent’s daughter. The change was refreshing in a way, and Mal almost felt a twinge of uncertainty sting in her gut as she unzipped the case’s main zipper. Or perhaps it was just the beginning of a laugh bubbling in her chest. She chuckled anyway, and the sensation seemed to lessen.

“Nice try.”

Mal flipped open the main compartment, unsurprised when the contents seemed to only consist of clothing and shoes. She was sure that each piece was worth a decent chunk of rusty coins— and she would be sure to snag some if nothing else of value showed up— but for the time being, she continued rifling past them until her hand found something solid, folded into the fabric of a shirt.

She lifted the shirt on the palm of her hand, feeling the weight of what must have been glass or something of that likeness, and glanced towards Evie, reading the way her cheeks flushed a contrasting red to her blue attire. Mal quirked a brow at this and unfolded the shirt, allowing the object enclosed inside it to fall with a thud into the sea of clothing below.

She dropped her gaze to where it sat and held back the gasp of triumph pushing through her chest. Her fingers traced over a gold frame lining a broken shard of reflective glass before she snatched the object into her grasp, holding it with both hands in front of her face and watching a smile grow on her lips from the reflection.

“Mirror, mirror,” Mal said, a mixture of shock and delight playing through her voice.

Sure, Mal had expected a necklace or a nice pair of earrings— something nice enough to give to Mother and make her forget how disappointed she was in her daughter— but this, _this_ was far more than she had ever bargained for.

Because Mother already had her Dragon’s Eye scepter but Mal just knew Maleficent couldn’t stay mad at her when she entered the castle brandishing another weapon from a former powerful villain. Mother loved power, and if she had Evil Queen’s magic mirror (or what was left of it) she could surely find a way to use it to her advantage— even if that advantage was only to instill some extra fear in her subjects.

Evie’s previous bravery had obviously burned out, leaving her jaw agape in a speechlessness that Mal was far more accustomed to seeing from her victims. Part of her wished Evie would speak up again, just to prove that she wasn’t as affected by Mal’s intimidation as the rest of the citizens on the Isle. But the other parts were too consumed with accomplishment to dwell on that desire. Mal tucked the treasure under her arm and dug through the last of the contents, finding nothing as noteworthy as Evil Queen’s magic mirror.

Satisfied with her pilfering, she straightened to her full height— which wasn’t much but still enough to tower over the scared girl— and turned to walk off, leaving a messy pile of dresses and shoes to soak up the rainwater on the alley floor.

“Thanks for the help,” Evie called after Mal once the purple-haired girl was far enough to be considered safe. The sarcasm in the words was painfully obvious and Mal couldn’t help but smile at the restoration of the girl’s boldness. She didn’t turn to face Evie as she called out a response.

“I already said you’re welcome.”

Mal didn’t return to Bargain Castle until morning. Mother wouldn’t miss her.

 

* * *

 

“Is that you, darling?”

Mal watched the early morning light succumb to darkness as the front door shut behind her and blocked the sun from making an entrance. It may have already been past eight, but the inside of the castle still held a darkness that could have tricked Mal into thinking it was a solid four hours earlier.

Mal stepped cautiously into the throne room that her mother would inevitably be sitting in, hoping to whatever would listen that the neutrality in her mother’s voice was not a product of a facade.

The mirror in her pocket poked into her legs with every movement, a constant reminder of what she had accomplished that served as her only source of confidence as she caught sight of the dark-robed woman at the center of the room.

“Hi, Mother.”

Maleficent lifted her gaze from where it watched the cloth rag in her grasp, meticulously scrubbing the rounded, green gem of her scepter as if its cleanliness could somehow allow it to wake up once more, even if just for a moment. Her green eyes met Mal’s of a matching color and they traced up and down the young girl, staring daggers into her until she felt her knees begin to wobble in distress.

Mal slapped her hand to her pocket— so hard, she wondered for a moment if she had shattered the treasure— in a last ditch effort to pull the attention away from whatever emotion was lingering on her mother’s face.

“I brought you home a present,” Mal said, her voice small and meek— something that she could never dare to allow anyone but Mother to hear— as her fingers dipped into the fabric and wrapped around the familiar golden frame.

A smile spread across Maleficent’s face at that, eliciting a similar one from her daughter at the anticipation of how her mother would react. Mal stepped closer to the throne, her heart thumping wildly against her ribs, and tugged the mirror from her pocket, holding it out for Mother to take.

“It’s Evil Queen’s magic mirror,” Mal explained, flipping the treasure in her hand from its reflective front to its shimmering, golden side and then back again.

The mirror left her grasp no more than a second later, snatched by Maleficent as she held the glass close to her face— long, black-painted fingernails wrapping around the frame and landing with rhythmic taps on the front.

“How did you get this?” Maleficent asked after a moment of admiration, her eyes still locked on the object as she spoke to her daughter.

Mal’s smile grew wider as she took in the villain’s sudden shock, her previous apprehension fading into nothingness.

“I stole it from the Auradon girl.” Mal crossed her arms over chest and jutted her chin out proudly, waiting for her mother to exclaim in excitement to her ‘nasty-little-girl’. Mal wondered if maybe Mother would even hug her.

But Mother did neither of the two, instead drawing a brightness to her eyes and dropping the mirror to her lap suddenly as if it had stung her.

“You did what?”

Mal’s eyebrows fell low on her forehead, more from disappointment than fear, her eyes searching her mother’s face for a reasoning behind the rejection.

“I stole it. From the Auradon girl,” Mal repeated, speaking slowly and clearly for Maleficent to hear. Because the only explanation she thought up was that her mother had misunderstood. She had misheard her and that’s why she wasn’t bursting with pride over her daughter’s great achievement.

And though, Maleficent’s expression softened, it only did so enough to leave behind a look of indignant disinterest as the woman sighed and poked at the mirror in her lap contemplatively.

“Well, that just won’t do. You’ll have to return it.”

A similar burning anger filled Mal’s body, tinting her cheeks red and prompting her to clench her fists at her side. It was the exact anger that had plagued her at the bridge, and it reclaimed her senses with a vengeance.

“Why would I ever do that? I’m a villain, mom, I don’t return things.” Mal chose a reply that least conveyed her irritation, constructing an excuse easily with the empty hope that it would somehow dissuade her mother from her previous orders.

Maleficent sighed dramatically again, sight still locked on the mirror.

“I shouldn’t have expected anymore of you, I suppose.” The woman ignored her daughter’s question as if she hadn’t even heard it, and Mal found herself wishing her mother would at least establish eye contact to put an end to the inferiority that she couldn’t help but feel.

But when Maleficent did lift her gaze, Mal remembered why she should be careful what she wishes for.

The woman scooted to one side of her throne, letting a hand fall to the newly empty space and tap it twice before muttering, “Sit, Mal.”

Wasting no time to obey her mother’s request, Mal made her way onto the cushion of the throne, almost cringing at the softness of the fabric against her legs.

She remembered sneaking from her room as a toddler, long after Mother had fallen asleep, and climbing onto the large chair, whose seat alone was large enough to hold her on it and only leave the tips of her toes dangling off the edge. She had sat in it for hours, whispering commands and practicing her evil grin just like Mother would, until her eyes grew heavy and desirous for sleep, her head falling against the armrest where it remained until morning.

Maleficent had found her before the sun rose, far from happy and full of shouts about never sitting in _her_ throne without permission. She sent Mal off to her room without breakfast (and a throbbing cheek).

The throne still sent chills up her arms, to this day.

But she situated herself against the seat anyway, feeling no ounce of warmth or comfort from sitting next to her mother. Just tension and the looming fear of the conversation.

“This isn’t about some silly mirror,” Maleficent began, poking once more at the object still resting in her lap. Mal pouted visibly at the remark, recounting how previously excited she had been to impress her mother with the treasure of a former villain— Mother always was unpredictable, she supposed, but the dismissal of her hard work stung more than she had expected.

“It’s about world domination.”

The sudden change in direction of the conversation left Mal with a feeling of social-whiplash, but she knew better than to interrupt Mother in the middle of a lecture, so she kept her growing confusion to herself, even as she craved to ask how returning a mirror and taking over the world went hand-in-hand. Maleficent paused, deep in thought as she licked her lips like she did when a particularly pleasant thought came to her mind. The woman returned her gaze to her daughter as she continued.

“Which is why you,” Mother stopped, reaching one dark-painted finger out and tapping it once on Mal’s nose. The younger girl pulled away immediately from the touch. “Need to go to Auradon.”

Mal pushed herself farther against the throne’s back as if it could put any distance between her and her mother, eyebrows lowering on her forehead as she stared at the woman’s complacent expression. “ _What?_ ”

Maleficent started to repeat herself, but Mal cut her off with a clarification. “I’m not going to some boarding school filled to the brim with prissy-pink princesses.” The disgust was definitely evident on her face, and Mal could even feel her cheeks beginning to heat with anger, but the older woman took no notice of either, following Mal’s defiance with a knowing laugh and another drawn-out sigh.

“You will go, you will find Fairy Godmother, and you will bring me back her magic wand.” The finality in her voice told Mal not to argue— despite the burning desire in her stomach to do so— so she bit her tongue, allowing the true reasoning behind her mother’s most recent outbursts to shine through. Her cheeks continued to burn, both from anger and a newfound embarrassment that she hadn’t figured out the plan on her own.

“And the first step in getting there is being nice to that brat-of-a-girl,” Mother tacked on, unknowingly adding fuel to Mal’s building rage. The woman continued talking but Mal had heard enough, her thoughts already blaring with furious reds and a _particularly annoying blue_ that seemed to have entered her life for the sole purpose of ruining it.

She tuned back in to her mother’s ranting in time to hear her shout, “With that wand and my scepter, I will be able to bend both good and evil to my will!” The fact that Mal would take part in that ‘will’ went without saying.

And though Maleficent had a goal of ruling the world, Mal’s incentive was something far less grand. She would prove herself as the villain that her mother never truly saw her as— she would prove once and for all that she wasn’t a disappointment. And she was going to do it on her own terms, which certainly didn’t include being nice to some girl who had come to turn the island’s life upside down.

So, Mal would play along. She would get herself a one-way ticket off the Isle. But as soon as her and Mother were ruling Auradon, Mal would ensure that Evie be the first to feel their wrath.

 

* * *

 

Mal stomped along the dirt paths of the Isle’s alleys, paying no regard to the mud that had begun to splash onto her boots and pants in the process. The puddles were too murky to see her own reflection, but she didn’t need to look to know that the scowl on her lips and the permanent green hue of her surroundings did not paint a picture of cheerfulness. The way the citizens practically dove from her sight spoke enough about it, anyway.

Mal stormed through the streets, evil on her mind, until she passed the place Jafar called home and was stopped by a tall figure dropping from the rooftop to the space inches in front of her.

She was so used to the surprise, she didn’t even flinch.

“Jay,” she stepped back slightly to establish some distance, greeting the boy with a short nod of her head. The green in her eyes fizzled to a far less intimidating shade as she looked up at the boy.

“Mal,” he mirrored, brushing a strand of hair messily behind his ear. “Why are you here?” It was spoken in a way that normally Mal would have taken as rude, but because it was Jay and she knew he meant no ill-will, she easily overlooked it.

“I’m looking for someone,” she grumbled, pushing past the boy with her shoulder that only came up to just above his elbow. Jay scoffed at the gesture amusedly, taking it as an invite to follow, though Mal never suggested she wanted company— but she knew Jay would have followed if she had made her desire for solitude known.

“Who pissed in your coffee?” He chuckled, easily keeping pace with the girl even as she tried her best to outstep him. Mal shook her head dismissively, ignoring his question and answering one that she knew Jay would follow up with anyway.

“I’m looking for the Auradon girl.” Mal almost spoke Evie’s name, but changed to the informality at the last minute to avoid the implication that she cared enough about the girl to remember her name (though, she would be lying if she said the name wasn’t consuming her thoughts).

“The one with the blue hair?” Jay asked, and Mal wanted to answer with a sarcastic comment regarding the fact that there was only one girl from Auradon on the island, but she held her tongue when Jay muttered something along the lines of “I gotta see this.”

Mal didn’t make the effort to shoo him away, partially because she knew he wouldn’t listen and partially because she thought she would say something she might regret, so the two walked side by side, past the empty alley where Evie had resided the night before, and down the countless other paths in search of the girl.

The hunt led Mal and Jay to the heart of the island, an area packed full of street vendors and customers eager to grab the nearest food in sight. It was just like any other typical breakfast on the Isle, except for one blemish— waves of dark blue hair weaving in and out of the crowds, a slice of bread and a paper cup of coffee clutched to her chest.

The image sent sparks of displeasure through Mal’s veins, the question of how a girl that the entire island should hate managed to score herself a decent meal remained annoyingly unanswered in her head. Mal froze in her movements, extending her arm out beside her to stop Jay from moving, too. She studied Evie for a moment, following the blue hair with her eyes until it broke through the horde of citizens and found a wall to lean against, a considerable distance from the chaos of the morning rush.

“Stay here,” Mal said to Jay, her eyes already deploying their tactic of intimidation with little effort. Jay must have noticed the fury building in her expression because he complied without protest, taking a few steps back to indicate that he would listen.

Mal started towards Evie with her fists clenched at her sides, her mind instinctively whizzing with possible starts to their coming conversation and how each one would benefit the statement she would make.

But every one of those possibilities shattered into useless shards as she approached the blue-haired girl and was cut off before she could speak by Evie saying something first.

“I don’t have anything left to give you. You already robbed me.” The words were sharp and cold but even as Evie spoke them, she stepped in front of the suitcase at her side protectively, as if she didn’t believe Mal would pass up the chance to steal from her again.

Mal’s chest drowned in a burning heat at the tone she was met with, no longer enjoying the contrast of Evie’s boldness to the cowardice of the other citizens. Her hands itched to punch something, and that something was beginning to seem a lot more like it might become the girl’s face. Mal sucked in a steadying breath, desperate to calm her nerves before they forced her to act in a way she would regret, and sorted the spinning thoughts in her head until they were clear enough for her to form a sentence.

“Listen, _princess_ ,” Mal growled through gritted teeth, making quick glances over her shoulder to ensure that no one was staring before taking a threatening step closer. Evie stumbled back, face flushing in fear— it was just what she had been waiting for; a break in Evie’s front that would give the control back to Mal. “You’re going to put me on your nice-list— or whatever you have to do to get me to Auradon— and as long as you do, I won’t make your life a living hell.” By the time the final word left her mouth, she was standing inches from Evie, their faces so close Mal could feel the blue-haired girl’s rapid breathing fanning across her cheeks. And Mal thought the threat would be more than enough to convince her, but as the words sunk in, Evie’s expression only hardened, her arms crossing over her chest in a defiance that matched the growing scowl on her lips.

“No, you see, that’s not how _this_ is going to go.” The courage was back— still laced with underlying anxiety, but there nonetheless— and Mal could feel the brightness in her eyes beginning to falter in shock of the rejection, the intimidation slipping from her grasp until the hues of green disappeared from her vision. Evie noticed the change, responding to it with a smirk of self-satisfaction. “I’m going to make my ‘nice-list’ how I want to, and if you want a chance of being on it, I suggest you start acting like someone who deserves to be in Auradon.”

The blow hit Mal like a ton of bricks to her chest, not only from the sheer audacity of the statement, but from the truth behind the words and how much it unexpectedly stung to hear them.

Because Mal definitely did _not_ deserve to be in Auradon. She was mean and nasty and absolutely none of the qualities of an Auradonian.

But something about hearing it from one of the mainland’s citizens only reaffirmed Mal’s hatred for her kind— the snobby, rich princess kind who turns up their nose at the sight of someone inferior and isn’t afraid to make their obvious privilege known.

And hearing Evie call her unworthy only made the itching in her hands grow to a sensation that was almost impossible to ignore.

If her eyes could turn red with anger, they would be crimson with rage.

Evie stared unwaveringly for a beat longer before dropping a hand to the protruding handle of her suitcase and slipping out from the place she had pinned herself against the wall. Mal let Evie walk off, only because a continuation of the conversation would be useless and only fuel the pounding of Mal’s chest further, but as soon as the girl was out of sight, Mal did punch the wall. She immediately felt the shooting pain racing up her arm, but couldn’t bother herself to dwell on it, already marching back to where Jay was waiting for her, nabbing a loaf of bread from a citizen with no remorse on the way there.

“So,” Jay began before Mal had even reached him. “What was that all about?”

“My mom’s making me go to Auradon,” Mal announced, waiting for an inevitable gasp of disbelief that never actually came. Jay only tilted his head as if Mal had merely made a small-talk comment that held no weight or interest. She ripped a chunk of stale bread from the loaf and passed it to Jay mindlessly, picking at the less dry inside for herself. “So, I need that girl to reserve me a spot,” she tacked on when she decided that Jay’s lack of shock must have come from him not fully understanding.

“And you thought the best way to do that was through intimidation?” Jay shook his head, scoffing at Mal’s naïveté.

“Well, how else am I supposed to get what I want?” The iciness in her tone still remained, but the adrenaline of anger was slowly trickling away with the passing moments, leaving behind a sense of what Mal would describe to be contemplative determination.

“Maybe you should try being nice to her?” Jay suggested. Mal practically choked on the bread in her mouth from laughter.

“I am _not_ nice.”

“You’re pretty nice to me,” he rebutted, biting into his chunk of bread and sending crumbs showering to the dirt road below.

Mal shook her head at the implication. “I tolerate you.”

“Then tolerate her.” His voice was muffled by the obnoxiously large bite of food in his mouth, but Mal understood perfectly, and the meaning behind the words was enough to replenish the steady thump of aggravation in her chest.

_Start acting like someone who deserves to be in Auradon._

The ending of her confrontation with Evie— and the way it was spat at Mal as if she were no more than scum on this Earth— played through her mind on a loop, each repetition driving hatred deeper inside of her.

“Not a chance.”

Niceness wasn’t an option for the daughter of the most evil villain in all of the lands.

She would find another way. Because she was Mal, and she always found a way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm actually really proud of this chapter even though it took twenty day to write it, oops
> 
> be sure to leave a comment with some feedback, i absolutely love reading them and they always motivate me to write.
> 
> and thank you to everyone who is reading and supporting this story!
> 
> see ya' soon!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so this is pretty late again, oops. 
> 
> this chapter has a lot of plot building in it, which made it kind of lacking on the malvie moments but it was all important to include, and next chapter will be a little more exciting, malvie-wise. 
> 
> hopefully you like it anyway!

The one week mark of Evie staying on the Isle arrived much to Mal’s dismay, partly due to her hatred of the girl invading her space, but mostly because her attempts to think up an adequate plan to get to Auradon was beginning to feel futile, and Evie’s presence only served as a constant reminder of that.

She hadn’t interacted with the blue-haired girl since the day at breakfast, but flashes of dark blue appeared in her vision far more than she liked, each time sending her heart pounding against her ribs in an irritation that she still hadn’t figured out how to quell.

Mal wouldn’t go as far as to say she was avoiding the girl— simply because avoidance would indicate the girl had an effect on her, and hell if Mal would ever admit to that— but she did go out of her way quite often to ensure that interaction wasn’t necessary, even if that meant waiting for Evie to leave the heart of the Isle with food in her hands before Mal grabbed her own meals.

Mal had spent the previous night huddled at the desk in her room, scribbling on some scraps of paper in a way that she only ever did when her stomach was twisted in knots of stress and anger, outlining useless, faulty plans— as she had for the past week— until her fingers cramped from their tightened grip on her pencil.

The magic mirror rested inside the pillowcase on her bed, hidden from the view of both Mother and herself, unreturned and untouched, but somehow still a constant in Mal’s thoughts.

She thought maybe she would return it and— dare she say it— apologize, but just the imagined scenario of forming the beginnings of an apology burned her cheeks a deep red that prompted her to scratch the idea without any further contemplation.

It was how a majority of the night unfolded, leaving her eyes heavy and dry by the time the sun began to peek out from beyond the horizon, showering the city in its soft orange light. And deciding that a night of frustration and sleep deprivation warranted a cup of coffee, she pushed from the chair at her desk and crept out the front door, careful not to disturb the villain sleeping a few rooms over. It was far too early to deal with Mother and her antics.

The Isle was just beginning to stir with signs of life, the first citizens trudging into the light with frowns on their faces and breakfast on their minds. Mal stared at her feet as she walked— knowing good and well that no one appreciated eye contact before double-digit hours— but hurriedly dragged her gaze up to normal height when it found a pair of water-stained leather boots stepping out from a stray path with the wheels of a suitcase rolling behind them.

Immediately, Mal dove from sight (far less than gracefully, tripping on the unevenness of the alley’s pavement and landing on her elbows in a way that she was just glad no one had witnessed) before she scurried to the corner and peeked around it, cursing herself for acting like such a child around a girl that she should have done away with when she first had the chance.

Evie walked with her head up, glancing in the direction of every citizen with a courteous smile on her lips; Mal wanted to smack the grin from her face before someone else saw the opportunity and stole it. Mal was plenty used to the sight of the blue-haired girl’s routine of going to breakfast— having watched it unfold for the past week. Any minute, Evie would walk up to the vendor with sweetness radiating from her being, lean onto the booth with her elbows, using a finger to twirl at her dark curls, and kick out one leg in the stupid way that Mal hated. The vendor would cave immediately and provide her with whatever food she wanted— free of cost— and Evie would stalk off with a coffee and some bread, complacency smothering the previous kindness in her visage. Had Mal not been so consumed in her hatred of the girl, she may have been impressed.

But as Mal watched from the corner, Evie did none of the former, instead ambling past the growing horde of citizens as if she hadn’t even noticed them.

Mal would have been lying if she said she wasn’t intrigued as to why the typically habitual girl had decided to break the pattern, and figuring it early enough to skip out on breakfast for the time being, she crept out from behind the alley wall, maintaining a safe distance from the girl as she followed her through the growing population and to the edge of the Isle that looked out towards the mainland of Auradon. And when Mal’s gaze found a shiny, black limousine parked dangerously close to where the bridge split from concrete to nothingness, the reasoning behind Evie’s change in routine became strikingly clear.

Mal ducked behind a nearby stack of what seemed to be useless scrap metal, hopeful that whoever was sitting in the front of the vehicle hadn’t seen her. Evie carried on, oblivious to the fact that she was being watched, stopping only once before reaching the driver side window to take a few hurried glances over her shoulders.

Mal squinted her eyes, her lips involuntarily pursing in concentration as she zeroed in on the figure beyond the window. She found dark blue staring back, an almost identical shade to the one Evie wore, along with honey brown hair that lingered in Mal’s head as familiar. Familiar to something that made her fists clench subconsciously in anger, as if they had placed a name to the figure before her mind could.

It wasn’t until Evie crouched down to the window’s height and the boy offered a grin as wide and bright as ever that Mal discovered his identity and felt her cheeks heating at the realization.

King Ben, son of King Beast. The title alone was enough to sour her stomach.

But the heat in her cheeks and the pit in her stomach quickly resolved as Mal continued to watch, her thoughts suddenly reeling with the beginnings of an idea that felt so new and foreign to her mind, her first instinct was to reject it.

But she allowed the concept to simmer— allowed the details to filter in— until it filled her gut with a new sensation, one she hadn’t experienced since her fingers first wrapped around the golden frame of Evil Queen’s magic mirror.

Because, glancing from Evie to King Ben and back again, Mal could practically see the terrifyingly crazy but exhilarating possibilities unfolding before her.

And for the first time since Mal’s previous interaction with the girl, she saw a way out. A way off of the Isle.

For the first time, she had a plan.

An insane plan.

But a plan, nonetheless.

 

* * *

 

Evie had been on the Isle exactly a week. Seven, slow-moving days that she hadn’t been able to stop herself from counting.

The first three were rough, consumed by stares and shouts and a particular purple-haired girl who seemed dead-set on ensuring Evie’s stay lived up to the terrifying stigma that clung to the island and its citizens. But as the newness of her arrival wore off, the people of the Isle settled slightly. They still glared suspiciously at Evie as she passed, but she seemingly no longer stood out as a target, as if the citizens had grown bored with their own never-ending plots and plans against her.

Mal avoided her altogether— and left Evie with a pit of regret in her stomach towards the last words she had spoken to the girl— always rushing from the area if she found Evie to be there first, tearing her eyes from Evie’s immediately if they happened to meet. Evie could have convinced herself that she had upset the girl if she hadn’t been so much under the impression that cold, mean Mal couldn’t be affected by a prissy princess’ words.

Evie had grown closest to Carlos over her stay, though the boy would only ever reciprocate the friendship— if she could even call it that— when he was absolutely sure no one was watching. There had even been two rare, short-lived occasions when Carlos invited her into his house while Cruella was away; once to use his shower, and once to keep the boy company while he did his chores, per his allusive request.

Her list of children had grown by a few names (and decreased a few intermittently when names disproved themselves), but mostly remained constant with Carlos and Mal sitting at the top. Evie never could bring herself to erase Mal’s name, the reasoning behind the inability still remaining annoyingly unknown. And yet, every night, Evie stared at the scrawl, eraser hovering just above it until her lungs let out an irritated sigh and she returned the unchanged journal to its resting place in her suitcase.

The newest addition to the list was a boy named Jay, son of Jafar. She had met him down an alley when he dropped from a roof, directly in front of her, and gave her the closest thing to a heart attack she had ever experienced. He was a tall boy with long, dark hair, wearing the leather equivalent of a muscle tank. Calling to mind her previous experiences of being alone in dark alleys, she instinctively clutched her suitcase to her side, expecting for the boy to rob her of whatever little valuables remained in her possession.

And her expectations proved to be not far off the mark.

“I really wish I didn’t have to do this. But I promised the old man I wouldn’t come home until I found some real treasure,” he had said, stepping closer and crossing his arms over the leather covering his chest. His face read displaced satisfaction lined with intimidation, but his eyes betrayed him, flashing with the exact sense of fear Evie had witnessed growing in Mal’s eyes towards the end of their last conversation. Evie’s eyebrows fell low on her head, desperate for meaning behind the look, but even when one refused to surface, she found herself unzipping the top of her suitcase, hoping it would dim the twisting of her stomach as she stared into the boy’s eyes.

Her hand found the nearest stash of jewelry, fingers clasping around a thin-chained necklace and coiling it into her fist. She tugged it from the case, holding it up for the boy to see. “It’s real gold. The gem on the end is ruby. Just take it.”

The dark brown eyes across from her dropped the fear in them, lighting up in an emotion that she seldom saw during her stay on the Isle.

“For real?” The surprise written on his face was enough to ease the tightening in Evie’s abdomen. She nodded adamantly, but the boy was already grabbing for the gold before she had a chance to answer, stuffing it in his pants pocket without a moments hesitation. He turned to leave but stopped just short of facing the opposite direction, spinning his head back towards Evie with a smile grazing over his lips.

“I’m Jay, my dad’s Jafar. Come by the shop and I’ll hook you up with whatever you want. No cost. I owe you.” It was the last he said— a mess of information, thrown together in a few choppy sentences— before he disappeared into the night, leaving Evie behind to ponder on why her heart tugged to get him off the villainous island as soon as possible.

Their acquaintance remained in the quid pro quo fashion; Evie would offer him some expensive piece of jewelry or clothing when he needed it, and Jay would provide her with whatever she needed from the junk shop— which unsurprisingly happened to be very little, considering most of the items on sale were, as the name stated, junk.

She never did find out the true reasoning behind Jay’s insistency of always ensuring he didn’t go home empty handed, but the possibilities only made her chest tighten in sympathy, and she figured she was probably better off not knowing the truth.

Ben coming to ‘check-up’ on the progress Evie had been making was an event Evie had been awaiting, desperate for some social contact other than the cruel glares and mumbles of dissatisfaction that had become her norm on the Isle.

She left the alley that had become her bedroom earlier than usual, threading her arms through a jacket to keep the cooling autumn temperatures from fanning across her skin. Evie hurried past the empty street in front of Maleficent’s castle, holding her gaze with the dirt below and only raising it when she was far from the vicinity. Evie had somewhere to be, and though Mal had made no effort whatsoever to reestablish communication, Evie didn’t want to give her the chance to on the one day that she needed to get to the bridge in a timely manner.

Her eyes found a normal height and scanned over the scarce and scattered group of citizens shuffling into the open area of booths and vendors that had just begun to flip their ‘closed’ signs to ‘open’ signs. Evie flashed each passerby a pleasant grin, and stupidly continued to, even as each one of them only offered grunts of irritation in response.

She casually strolled past the smell of old bread, ignoring the grumbling of her stomach as it remained empty. The bridge was only a few minutes walk from where the Isle would soon swell with hungry citizens, but she found herself rushing to get there in fewer, even as she knew herself to be running early.

The black limousine shimmered in the rising sun, taking on a tint that resembled orange as the light reflected from its paint. An involuntary smile spread across her lips and she picked up pace to arrive at the driver’s side window, already noticing the shaggy-haired boy in the front seat that made the grin grow wider. With one last look over her shoulders to ensure she didn’t have company, Evie leaned onto the opening window, already feeling excitement hitch the breath in her throat at the sight of a familiar face.

“Long time, no see,” Ben greeted in the typical, cornily humorous way that Evie couldn’t help but laugh at. The laugh felt foreign on her tongue and she briefly stopped to wonder if it was the first time on the Isle that one had genuinely bubbled in her chest.

“It’s definitely been a long week,” she muttered, watching the boy’s face fall slightly from the lightheartedness it had held moments before. When she sensed the tension building, she changed the topic before sympathy could enter his voice. She didn’t need— didn’t want— sympathy for a choice she made, especially when that choice was one she didn’t yet regret. “How’s everyone in Auradon?”

The brightness in Ben’s hazel eyes returned, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “They’re good. You’re the talk of the town over there.”

“All good things I hope?” Evie quirked a brow curiously.

“Mostly good things. Some bad, but that comes with big decisions like these,” Ben answered, his wisdom on the topic reminding Evie that he was, in fact, a king, even if their closeness in age made it easy to forget.

“What about Aurora? And Audrey?”

“Aurora won’t stop calling and asking if I’ve heard any news from the Isle, no matter how many times I’ve told her that I wouldn’t know anything until today.” Evie had to laugh at that, because it was so authentically Aurora, and the exact kind of nagging she had always been used to and definitely didn’t miss during her ‘vacation’ from Auradon. “Audrey’s enjoying the attention of being the sister of ‘the girl on the Isle’,” Ben finished, eyes flicking between Evie and the empty space in front of the limo. Evie held back the urge to mutter something along the lines of “that’s not a string of words I ever thought I’d hear,” and instead, simply nodded along as if the information hadn’t planted the slightest seed of irritation in the girl.

The silence that followed was hurriedly broken again by Ben. “But how are you? How’s your list coming along?” He cleared his throat in between questions as an attempt to draw the attention away from the previous matter, but the new topic didn’t help to suppress the burning that had begun inside her, only serving as a vexing reminder of a name that didn’t belong in her journal, but somehow remained there anyway.

“I have a few people in mind.” She ignored the first half of what the boy had asked, more inadvertently than not, too focused on an image of purple hair and flashing green irises to realize her inattention.

If Ben had noticed, he didn’t show it and only nodded, seemingly satisfied with the reply. “And they’re treating you okay?”

The purple deepened in her thoughts. The green intensified.

“They’re— still getting used to me.” Evie squinted her eyes in contemplation, knowing well that her answer was more than an understatement. Ben let out a sigh that bled into some vaguely motivational response that Evie failed to listen to, her gaze drawn from the inside of the limo to the streets that stretched out in front of it, where groups of citizens had begun to notice the unusual vehicle, some taking steps closer for a better look and others staying back, whispering amongst themselves. The indignation residing in her gut dissipated, lessened by a wave of disappointment towards how early Ben would be leaving that took its place.

“You should go,” she said, her fingers tapping nervously on the car window as the people in the streets grew closer. Ben looked towards them, a frown tugging at his mouth before his eyes lit up once more, a short gasp escaping his lips.

“Before I do,” he started, taking his hands from the steering wheel and twisting to face the passenger seat. He reached into a lunchbox that Evie hadn’t noticed the presence of until just then, and pulled out a plastic bag that he held towards Evie to take. “I figured you could use some real food.” Her eyes scanned over the bag, taking in the sight of a stacked sandwich whose contents remained irrelevant in her mind, before her hands were greedily snatching it from the boy’s grasp, clutching it to her chest as if it would disappear if she didn’t.

“Thank you, Ben,” she managed, despite her attention being totally focused on the first sight of food other than slop and grime in a week. He probably uttered some dismissal of the gratitude, but Evie had already taken a step back, allowing the king the space he needed to turn the limousine around and head back off the bridge he came from, not to be seen again for another week.

Evie waved to him until the shimmering black was a speck in her vision and when she turned back to the streets of the Isle, the citizens offered her some final glares of disapproval before they returned to their daily routines.

The wave of customers was quickly receding, the shops no longer brimming with the Isle’s population, leaving behind an emptiness broken only by a few stragglers, among which stuck out a short purple-haired girl whose hands were gripping the edge of vendor’s booth, rage visible in her expression from as far as Evie stood from her.

There was a burly man with a hard gaze standing on the other side of the obviously handmade stand; his arms were crossed, his head shaking back and forth as the girl seemingly argued uselessly.

Mal’s knuckles whitened as the man flipped his ‘open’ sign back to the side that read ‘closed’ and turned to leave the angered girl, but before he was far from her sight, Mal let go of the splintering wood with a grunt, extending an arm and swiping it across the cluttered display of empty containers, knocking each and every one to the ground.

The man’s face burned red but Mal was already stomping off before the consequences could catch up with her, walking directly down the path that Evie stood in the middle of.

Evie’s pace faltered at the idea of a possible interaction, but she continued forward nonetheless, ignoring the pounding in her chest that stemmed from the bright green eyes ahead of her. Mal didn’t bat an eye as she neared the girl she had so obviously been avoiding, and stopped for only a moment once she was near enough to Evie.

“They’re out of food,” Mal growled, probably meant as a heads-up, but spoken in a way that Evie could have easily taken as a threat. The purple-haired girl didn’t offer Evie a chance to respond— or even react— before she was marching off once again, empty-handed and apparently empty-stomached.

Evie did stop then, a sudden ache of sympathy tugging her eyebrows low on her forehead. She looked down towards the hand that still clutched the sandwich from Ben like a lifeline and felt a knowing sigh fall from her mouth involuntarily.

She found a wall to lean against and unzipped the bag in her grasp, pulling out one half of the sandwich and examining the contents that peeked out from between the bread. It was a simple ham and cheese, lettuce and mayonnaise added, but Evie’s mouth still watered staring at it, and when she took the first bite, she couldn’t stop her eyes from falling closed in contentment.

Evie finished the half far too soon for her liking and eyed the other half longingly, but ultimately zipped the plastic bag and tucked it back under her arm, starting back down the dirt road to find a certain maddened girl.

Evie searched for Mal in the only place she knew to look— the alley that lined Bargain Castle— and sure enough, Mal was there, back against the brick, one hand picking at the fingernails on the other with a scowl twisting her features in a way that almost made Evie wish to abandon her previous intentions. The chill in the air somehow felt greater in the vacancy that claimed the streets; Evie pulled her jacket sleeves lower on her arms until the seams reached the palms of her hands.

Mal found the blue-haired intruder not long after Evie entered the alley, and she straightened defensively against the wall, eyes hardening further at the sight of the disturbance. Evie forced a meek grin, flicking her gaze once between the ground and the girl that was now, no more than a few feet away.

At arm’s length, she stopped and took the halved sandwich from under her arm, holding it out with a shaky hand, maintaining a look of casualty on her face to hide the fear that lingered underneath. Mal studied the food being offered, her eyes squinting to slits as she crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her gaze to Evie with a glower so sharp, it could have cut the awkward tension in the air.

“I don’t need your pity,” Mal spat, taking a rejecting step back. Evie furrowed her brows, not totally surprised at the immediate refusal, and stretched her arm further insistently.

“It’s not pity. I’m just being nice.” Evie emphasized the final word, dragging out the one syllable as if it was from a foreign language— one that Mal wouldn’t understand. Mal titled her head to one side, green eyes searching Evie’s face for intent behind the gesture.

“I robbed you and threatened to ruin your life.” Mal spoke prudently, slow and cautious, confusion and defense dripping from every word. Evie shook her head, the beginnings of a genuine smile coming to her lips at the remark.

“I don’t think you understand how kindness works,” Evie started, reaching into the bag in her grasp and taking the sandwich from inside it. “I saw that you missed breakfast, so I’m offering you this sandwich. It has nothing to do with what’s happened in the past.” With a step forward to shorten the distance Mal had attempted to create, Evie held out the sandwich once more for the girl to take.

The suspicion was still ever-present on Mal’s face, but her eyes widened slightly from their squinted posture as she uncrossed her arms and took the food into her grasp. She flipped the sandwich over a few times in her hands, inspecting every inch as if it being poisoned was a real possibility in her mind. Evie raised her eyebrows and nodded impatiently in an effort to convince Mal to take a bite.

The purple-haired girl lifted the sandwich to her lips at a snails pace, eyes locked skeptically on Evie as she opened her mouth and tore off a bite from the corner. Evie watched expectantly, her smile fully forming at the sight of Mal’s eyes growing wide in amazement. Mal turned protectively from Evie no more than a moment later, already going in for a second, much larger bite. And with one final look towards Evie over her shoulder that quickly turned to a squint, Mal hurried off down the alley, leaving Evie with nothing but an empty plastic bag.

Mal never thanked Evie and Evie never expected her to— didn't even want the gratitude. Because the interaction had been the first between the two that hadn’t ended with one of them stomping off with a pit of anger in their guts, and the mere idea that it could pave the way to a civil— and maybe even friendly— relationship filled Evie with more delight than a ‘thank you’ ever could.

 

* * *

 

Mal had finished the sandwich before reaching the entrance of Bargain Castle— a sandwich like none other she had ever had; one with bread that practically melted on her tongue and flavor that didn’t hold the constant smell of rot that hung in the Isle’s air. She slipped in through the front door, silently hurrying to her bedroom to avoid the sight of her mother, her stomach churning with a sensation that she blamed on eating too quickly despite the obvious correlation it held to the way her mind was clogged with questions and uncertainty.

Mal fell onto the mess of overturned blankets and strewn pillows that she knew as her bed with a sigh, her eyes squeezing shut in an attempt to shut off her thoughts, even for a moment. And when she sat up, she ran her fingers through her hair roughly, mumbling a reminder to herself that Evie couldn’t be trusted or liked, and one stupidly generous offering didn’t change that.

The clutter of her thoughts began to settle, allowing the true spotlight of her mind to shine through. She had a plan. A plan to get herself off the Isle just like Mother wanted. Mal forced herself from the blankets, even as the comfort practically begged her sleep-deprived self to stay on them, and trudged to the desk across from her, pulling open a few drawers and rummaging through them until her eyes caught sight of the object she was searching for.

Under a stack of crumpled drawings sat a dagger just longer than Mal’s hand, its tarnished silver handle gleaming dully in the mid morning light from her bedroom window. She took the weapon into her grasp, shutting the drawer with her knee and leaned down, tugging aside the fabric of her boot and sliding the dagger in against her leg.

Because Mal wasn’t stupid. And she knew better than to go into an unpredictable situation without at least some form of protection up her sleeve— or in her shoe.

Mal couldn’t remember who taught her the strategy, or if perhaps she had thought of it all on her own, but she kept the dagger with her during the times when she knew her shining eyes may not be enough to intimidate, and it grew to be a security blanket of sorts (though she would be caught dead admitting it).

Mal straightened, shaking her foot to test the feeling of the dagger beside it, and sighed a steadying breath before pulling her bedroom door open.

She tiptoed her way out of Bargain Castle, unseen once again.

The smell of fish and old frying oil was a smell that radiated from the small shack-of-a-restaurant that bordered the sea surrounding the Isle— and the scent hit Mal’s nose far before the words ‘Ursula’s Fish and Chips’ came into her line of sight.

It was a busy spot at any given time of the day, being one among the few sit-down restaurants on the island— the constant hum of conversation being a product of that.

But the buzz quickly fell to a hush as Mal pushed open the front doors, all eyes shooting in her direction. She strode forward, as if unaffected, to the bar at the back and leaned her elbows against it. A waiter held her gaze with a glare for a moment before ambling over, wiping his hands on his apron and crossing them in front of him.

“I’m looking for Uma,” Mal said when the waiter’s silence told her he wouldn’t be the first to initiate conversation. The boy studied her with a squint before tilting his head to one side in a gesture that pointed to a side door.

“Outside.” His voice was low and flat, his expression still unforgiving, but Mal didn’t hold a desire to make him change it, so she simply nodded and left without another word, stepping outside to find a gang of children her age huddled around a wooden table with a tray of fries at the center.

Mal cleared her throat to draw attention, ignoring the twinge of suppressed anger that sparked from inside her when dark brown eyes found hers. The table grew strikingly quiet, the dark brown eyes narrowing at the girl interrupting them.

“Well, well, look what the tide dragged in,” Uma scoffed, elbowing one of the boys beside her. The group followed the remark with quiet laughter, but hurriedly stopped themselves when Mal flashed a glint of radiant green.

“I didn’t come here to fight.” Mal tucked her hands into the pockets on the back of her jeans, noticing the look of suspicion on Uma and the rest of her crew’s faces and deciding to continue. “I came here because I need to get off this island.” Uma’s eyes widened at that, a wide smile coming to her lips where the skeptical scowl had resided just moments before.

“Hold on,” Uma looked between Mal and a few of the boys beside her, the menacing grin growing. “Did you come here to ask for _my_ help?”

Mal tore her eyes from the dark brown irises, looking everywhere besides the crowded table. Her lips pursed in annoyance that burned her cheeks and flared her nostrils.

“ _Unfortunately_.” The growl slipped past Mal’s lips before she could tell herself to ‘play nice’, but she bit her tongue and forced a calming breath to ensure the next words to come wouldn’t be ones she would regret. “It’s not something I can do alone.”

Uma laughed at the statement, a drawn out, teasing laugh that bled into a drawn out, overdramatized sigh. “You know, I’ve dreamed of this— you wanting something from me.” Silence followed; the boys crowding the table began to shift, the smiles on their faces becoming ever-present, too. “I’m listening,” Uma mumbled, leaning back against the wooden table with a smirk.

Mal finally brought her eyes back to the group, hoping a majority of the redness from her cheeks had drained. She collected her thoughts and ran through what she would say once in her head, remembering all over again how crazy the plan seemed.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed our newest arrival from Auradon.” Uma and her crew collectively nodded, their expressions taking a sudden dive into disgust. “Yeah, well, _she’s_ never going to let me off of the Isle, but I happen to know that King Ben himself has been checking in on her. So, all _I_ have to do is find out when he’ll be here next, and when he shows up, we capture him and hold him for a ransom payment of one ticket to Auradon. Easy peasy.” Mal crossed her arms in front of her as she finished, eyes studying the pirates for any sign of rejection. Uma’s head fell to one side reflectively, the smirk never faltering.

“What’s got you so stir crazy?” The aqua-haired girl asked, her elbows finding the edge of the table behind her.

“Plans for world domination, same old, same old,” Mal muttered casually— an answer that Uma didn’t question as she turned to glance at each member of her crew, a silent conversation shared between them.

“What’s in it for us?” Mal had known the question was coming; Uma wasn’t the type to do unreciprocated favors.

“I’ll spare you once my mother and I are ruling Auradon,” she answered dismissively, her voice taking back on its previous biting tone. Uma rolled her eyes, looking once again to the others, who reacted with mumbles of dissatisfaction.

“And if we decline?”

Mal held a hand out in front of herself, examining the fingernails that had been picked far too short. “I could always have a talk with Mommy Dearest.”

Uma scoffed, her head shaking back and forth amusedly. “You don’t intimidate us, Mal.” The girl pushed from the table, stepping closer to Mal and sending the purple-haired girl’s heart beating quicker despite the cool exterior she maintained. “I think you forget that I know you well enough to remember your bark is worse than your bite,” Uma mumbled through gritted teeth. The words reddened Mal’s cheeks all over again, her fists clenching at her sides.

But Mal knew there was large truth in the statement. There had been a time— when Mal was young and foolish— that the two had been the best of friends, spending all their time together, wrecking havoc like the villains they were meant to be. But just as easily as their friendship began, it fell out just the same, ending once and for all with a bucket of shrimp dumped over the top of the aqua-haired girl’s head.

Mal didn’t have friends anymore. Because friendship was weak. And Mal had grown used to being alone, anyway.

Mal quirked an eyebrow in challenge despite the knowledge of their past. Uma only leaned closer.

“I bet you’re even hiding that stupid knife in your boot like you always do when you’re afraid.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, far too quiet for Uma’s crew to hear, but more than loud enough to strike the nerve it was meant to in Mal.

The purple haired girl took a step back in an effort to stop herself from landing a punch on Uma’s face. She crossed her arms to ensure she wouldn’t.

Uma took the silence as a confirmation and nodded triumphantly before continuing, her voice taking back on a normal volume.

“We help you and you make sure we all get to leave the Isle, too.”

Mal let the proposal sink in, her thoughts consumed in a sudden debate of how to decide. She shook the whir of concerns from her head; the plan had always been an insane one, she didn’t see the harm in adding to the chaos.

Mal drew in a deep breath, blowing it out as she lifted a hand for Uma to shake.

“Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh oh, mal's making bad decisions...
> 
> be sure to leave me some feedback, i really appreciate any comments that are left! 
> 
> thank you all for reading and supporting this fic!
> 
> see you soon!


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